“For a long time after surgery I stayed in bed.

At night, when the nurses drifted like swans through the ward,

I began to think about my life as though it were over,

And I, Uncle Ping, a ghost poking about in the past.

I went through each scene.

Drew up the cast of characters who had been part of my story.

Of course, she was who I thought of most,

and still so breathtaking—even in memory,

as though my poor heart had been tricked

into believing there was still hope.