Nightfall Poem by Shaojun Li

Nightfall, time for dinner.
I go out to the woods, calling my old father.
The night is seeping through little by little, the darkness diffuses
like ink on rice paper.
With each call, the night is pushed out a little further;
with each pause, it gathers again.

My call
echoes long in the woods
then ripples out in the wind like waves.

For a moment, my father's answer
seems to brighten the darkness.


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