Four glances around you

Look, the East—

What's that metallic taste coating my throat?
I dare not taste or swallow it, 
Because I know 
That's the taste of blood—
Blood of my people.

Look, the West—

There are crowds with dome-shaped caps, torsos
Attaching to four limbs, moving above 
And beneath this earth. 
They glisten with silver and gold beams. 
They grin proudly as they work in teams.

Look, the South—

So I have fallen once—
No big deal. 
So I have failed a few times, but I'd always stand again. 
Always (I strongly believe so), right? Right? 
Oh—some people never learn.

Look, the North—

Look on the wall, and look on what's hanging there—
Do you see the thirteenth number on the clock? 
Its elegant cursive, its magnificent curse—
Oh, do you see the time? 
Do you see the Time?

Dale Chou
2001-06-10