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Industrial Zone

Industrial Zone ZHENG XIAOQIONG e w Th hite light is on, the building is lit, the machine i s on, my fatigue is lit, the blueprint is li t . . . It’s Sunday night, the night of August 15, the moonlight is on, a full hollow of emptiness, the lychee t ree is lit, a breeze blows the clear emptiness in its body while silen ce keeps its year-round quietness, only insects sing in the b ushes. All the lights are on, the city is lit, so many dialects in th e industrial zone, so many humble people weak and homesic k. e in Th dustrial city. Sunday nigh t. e m Th oonlight is on, the machine is lit, the blueprint i s lit, my face is lit—the rising moon lights up my falling heart. Many lights are on, many people are passin g by. e lig Th hts in the industrial zone, my past my present the mac hine the silent moonlight the silent lights the small me s o small, a piece of metal, a tool, a lamp—I warm up the indust rial city with my frail body. The bustling the noise the livelin ess, my tears my joy my pain, my brilliant humble thoughts. My sou l is lit by the moonlight. It collects my thoughts and takes them to a fa raway place. They diminish and disappear in the light, unnoticed. Translation by Ming Di http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Industrial Zone

Manoa , Volume 31 (1) – May 10, 2019

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x

Abstract

ZHENG XIAOQIONG e w Th hite light is on, the building is lit, the machine i s on, my fatigue is lit, the blueprint is li t . . . It’s Sunday night, the night of August 15, the moonlight is on, a full hollow of emptiness, the lychee t ree is lit, a breeze blows the clear emptiness in its body while silen ce keeps its year-round quietness, only insects sing in the b ushes. All the lights are on, the city is lit, so many dialects in th e industrial zone, so many humble people weak and homesic k. e in Th dustrial city. Sunday nigh t. e m Th oonlight is on, the machine is lit, the blueprint i s lit, my face is lit—the rising moon lights up my falling heart. Many lights are on, many people are passin g by. e lig Th hts in the industrial zone, my past my present the mac hine the silent moonlight the silent lights the small me s o small, a piece of metal, a tool, a lamp—I warm up the indust rial city with my frail body. The bustling the noise the livelin ess, my tears my joy my pain, my brilliant humble thoughts. My sou l is lit by the moonlight. It collects my thoughts and takes them to a fa raway place. They diminish and disappear in the light, unnoticed. Translation by Ming Di

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: May 10, 2019

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