Comes the sleeveless and skirt morning,
Everywhere are the apples running,
My daughter is doing her painting.
A five-year-old sky is so boundless,
Your name is called windows by two,
One opens to the armless sun,
One opens to your father,
Who has become an escaped hedgedog,
Bring with him a few obscure words,
And an reddest apple
Detaching from your painting.
A five-year-old sky is so boundless.
(translated from the poem 晝by Bei Dao