Tranquility Poem by Shaojun Li

The tranquility of this small place is in its bone:
the spring water runs in the river, flagstones paved along the alley,
vines and weeds climb the fence, and a bird hops on the wall.
All have tranquility in them.

The tranquility is also
in that empty blue and white porcelain vase
waiting, for a peach flower or a twig of plum blossom.

More, the tranquility is in the sound of knocking by children
— it's made by knocking on the doors and windows.


(transl. by Joan Xie & Sam Perkins from Chinese)