名人诗歌|Somewhere Else

It is here on this ridge¹

exposed to the orange dusk

of mountain autumn

that the story begins.

Buck^{2 wood for the stove}

feel the heat of shoulder to tendon

greet the mule^{3 deer}

and water the garden again.

In rhythm， with song

when the ax begins to blend with wind

carry on to warmer days

on the river's open banks

where the fervor^{4 of healing is found in water.}

Flow from one origin to another

there is never a place where we cannot begin

where the current is ancient， the wind is young

teaching each other like the ax and the wood.

Carve a place for dignity

plant a seed and pray for rain

for sun

for understanding outside your self.

There will come a day when they say：

who do you think you are

and another day will come

for you to tell.

On that day the story will appear

but do not tell of yourself

tell the story of the staff that blossomed in the desert

or the one about your enemy's greatest victory

tell the story of somewhere else