Dawn and dusk are more lovely than day and night, and the springtime and fall are more splendid than summer and winter. When trying to describe all I see in a mountain crag or on a beach, I sense the feebleness and simplicity of human language. As the Russian poet Ivan Bunin said: “Poets are not good at depicting the enormity of autumn, because they do not often describe colors and the sky.” But the words available to poets are limited, and many new lexicons are yet to be invented.
“Going into the White Birch Forest” by Wei An 苇岸 – translated by Eleanor Goodman.














