Moths to the flames (Part IV)
By Ranze
XV
Grandpa said, “Always keep your back to the sun.”
In the quiet forest, a group of moths practices
the art of flight: First, push off with your legs,
leap up, then quickly spread your wings.
Flap your wings, flutter up and down, keep steady;
adjust frequency—slow to decelerate, fast to accelerate;
change angle, fine-tune wingspan, and you can pitch and hover;
alter amplitude, left and right unequal, break symmetry,
turn and spin. Remember, always keep your back
to the sun. The river of time flows through this forest.
Above the river, cement houses and steel
jungles rise; lamplight replaces the sun. The moths
still fly as their ancestors did—back to the sun, soaring.
Falling into the sea of fire, “Always keep your back to the sun.”
XVI
An endless wilderness, wildflowers
growing everywhere. In the gentle wind, the sound
of a flute drifts over, like nature’s mother singing,
singing the night song of the stars, rippling
through the grass where wildflowers flicker now and then.
A slow breeze passes through drifting clouds; stars brighten the firmament.
Under the firmament, in the wilderness, from somewhere
a sun on earth rises, flames ignite,
splashing a radiance of ten thousand feet. The creatures around
fear the brilliant firelight, halt before the light.
Only the brave moth in the darkness
throws itself toward the flame, embracing that light and heat.
The embrace in the dark night is life’s clarity;
the silence in the light is a great death.
Bio: Ranze is a 19-year-old poet living in Beijing, China. He studies Sociology and Ethnology at the University of Chinese Academy of Social Sciences. Besides, he is a lifelong lover of literature, with a particular devotion to the sonnet. He writes in Chinese and English and translates his own work. He has published poems on the Poetry Network of China over ten times.
