Don't switch on the light,
The door of sinister has drawn in the saints,
My hand knows the way well
Like an age-old key,
At the place of your heart,
Turns and opens your fate.
The month of March is outside the door drfiting.
A few sticks of bamboo are swaying,
Somebody is from the underground diving and swimming
The snow storm is over,
The butterflies assemble again.
I follow you like pilgrim,
You follow destiny.
(translated by oswald, poem 忠誠by Bei Dao)