NATURE Poem: Natural Walking, by Tengze ZHANG

i. Dust-Filled Afternoon
The rain has finally stopped. Yet, something inexplicably unsettling lingers beneath the surface—
a perplexing feeling. It started one afternoon long ago, this persistent, unshakable dread. Like
autumn arriving, leaves turning into rainwater, I worry that stepping on them will lead only to
emptiness, afraid to tread firmly. My hands feel utterly listless. I turn my head and glance
askance. The reflection in the mirror is hard to accept. I look away, and just like that, no evidence
remains.

ii. Mirror
A wild boar that escaped the pigsty digs at the dirt with its snout. I heard something happened
down south, and the north has begun to snow. In the heart of the forest, the boar digs its hole.
The moment I turn off the light, this boar—suddenly leaps into my mind, digging. You close your
eyes, yet you sense it: in the heart of the forest, a wild boar is digging a hole.
Even when we become two stones leaning against one another, breathing the air that rises
around us, the image of the boar digging remains.

iii. This Century
Modern cities have no walls; I am someone who lives in a modern city. Yet, in the end, the city
gives birth to new walls. Ports with walls resemble dragons with broken wings. Jade is still buried
beneath the earth, but its surface is coated with a layer of dust, ash sifted down by city dwellers.
People upon the walls wait for the jade below. Suddenly falling silent, like clouds sealing their
lips. A dragon flies among the clouds, new walls. They block the clouds outside the city.

iv. Lotus Blossoms
I stand on the stone tiles by the lake. A wild duck swims out from behind the lotus leaves. Pink
and white blend together. Back in summer, or perhaps it was spring, the blossoms came to life. I
stand on the shore watching the flowers, but my thoughts can’t settle on them. My eyes seem to
see the blossoms, yet the image is unclear. My stomach is empty, though I’m not conscious of
the hunger. I walk on, hollow, not knowing where I’m going. Everyone else seems to have a
destination. I can only watch from the sidelines, wander aimlessly, with no idea of the
destination. The wild duck, deep within the lotus leaves—I still don’t know where to go.

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