ALL YOU HAVE IS A COUNTRY

You are so poor that all you have is a country.

Whenever you open your mouth

you talk about the country

to which you can no longer return.

China is a giant shield that you use

to conceal your cowardice and to preempt

the onslaught of duties and hardships.

You dare not take these as your rights:

the warm sunlight, clean water, fresh air,

a happy mood for an ordinary day.

As long as you live, you want to grieve

for the fairy tale of patriotism.

You dare not take a country as a watchdog —

a good dog wags its tail to please its master,

becomes fierce in deterring burglars;

a bad dog ignores invaders

and only bites and barks at its master.

You dare not clasp the dog’s ear,

telling it, “You won’t have food

if you continue to misbehave like this.”

Actually, you are merely a grain of rice

that fell through China’s teeth,

but you treat it as your god,

your universe, and the source

of your suffering and happiness.