2024-02-25 ☼ translation ☼ translations
The soil has vanished; the snow prompts a moment of hesitation on the path that leads to springtime and warmth. After absorbing the rain, the snow contracts underfoot, its lustre dimmed like a knife gone blunt, its edge lost. A few damp magpies rise and dip. This is the time in which they look for a place to nest among the scattered trees or metal pylons. This unseasonable snow naturally elicits thoughts of the winter just passed, but might also prompt a historian to think of modern Chinese history, the fleeting empire of Yuan Shikai.
From 雨水 “Yushui” in 一九九八 廿四节气 “1998: The Twenty-Four Solar Terms” by 苇岸 Wei An. Read the full extract in issue 8 of Spittoon.