The Sky’s Geometric Shape

translated by Hazel Ma

The world seems to be a giant machinery, rumbling and swirling, heedless to the insignificance of humans compared to its track. The man is holding a pencil like a rocket model, with his heels touching the foxtail grass — the train has gone, the wilderness is lonely, and the entire gray-blue sky is enveloped, with no water droplets to squeeze out. Breathe in the smell of burnt stones.

A long string of circles on the sketchbook are the planets observed by the telescope the night before when the sun’s glory had set to the moon’s translucence. As far as the eye can see, the earth, endless, encircles insects and spirits, passes through the microscope of one’s mind, blooming into tiny graphic flowers. What is more out of reach is with more potential. 

The gods’ bows and arrows once penetrated the thick-shelled planets, giving them the right to dance across the sky like gyros — the music here that no one can hear is conducted by order, gradation, humility, and it is difficult to completely delineate it no matter how hard one thinks about it.

         Explore science as a sacrifice for the sky.