Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Sheng Xing

the winter-built house

the winter-built house
the workmen wearing padding jackets
the frost-covered rocks
the snow-covered timber
and the lake water you have to smash a layer of ice to get to

later, black smoke rises slowly from the chimney on the roof
women are visible through the cloudy window panes
but the walls stay ice-cold

when scorching summer arrives
you needn't worry that the house will melt like ice-cream
beneath the sun's burning rays
at this time
the workmen will be napping in shade of the trees
the rocks will be on a distant hill
the timber will buried underneath green leaves
the lake water will be suffused with ripples
there is a deep lovingness between all these things
and the hotter the summer sun
(or the colder the winter)
the tighter they embrace

THE WINTER-BUILT HOUSE

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the winter-built house

the winter-built house
the workmen wearing padding jackets
the frost-covered rocks
the snow-covered timber
and the lake water you have to smash a layer of ice to get to

later, black smoke rises slowly from the chimney on the roof
women are visible through the cloudy window panes
but the walls stay ice-cold

when scorching summer arrives
you needn't worry that the house will melt like ice-cream
beneath the sun's burning rays
at this time
the workmen will be napping in shade of the trees
the rocks will be on a distant hill
the timber will buried underneath green leaves
the lake water will be suffused with ripples
there is a deep lovingness between all these things
and the hotter the summer sun
(or the colder the winter)
the tighter they embrace

the winter-built house

the winter-built house
the workmen wearing padding jackets
the frost-covered rocks
the snow-covered timber
and the lake water you have to smash a layer of ice to get to

later, black smoke rises slowly from the chimney on the roof
women are visible through the cloudy window panes
but the walls stay ice-cold

when scorching summer arrives
you needn't worry that the house will melt like ice-cream
beneath the sun's burning rays
at this time
the workmen will be napping in shade of the trees
the rocks will be on a distant hill
the timber will buried underneath green leaves
the lake water will be suffused with ripples
there is a deep lovingness between all these things
and the hotter the summer sun
(or the colder the winter)
the tighter they embrace
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère