The Piano

For me
the piano is like the skeleton of a monster
occupying nobly a corner of the city

In fact it is from a common family
and had nothing to do with the arched roof of the city,
glass windows, tuxedos and gown.
Its frames and nerves, breaths and gazes
were closely attached to the countryside

The sound of the piano comes from a giant tree in the countryside,
and very similar to the singing of an insect
in the grass field

Amsterdam, Moscow, and Paris are not
its only homelands.
Barren land and the sky filled with dark clouds
equally bear its dreams.
When the wind dies crashing into the sails of a ship,
when the anchor rusts in the water, 
the sound played by the fingers
is called music

……
The piano is unwillingly adjusting the senses of urbanites
and trying to escape from the toying of its owner.
In the circumstances that manipulated by vanity,
its pure, moistened, and highly noble voice gradually hoarsen.
At last, like an urbanite carried into the crematory, the piano
is burnt into ashes

The strings are hair
The keys are teeth
The resonance box is a mouth

The piano always reminds me of
the wide sky, after the trees are lumbered
in places far from the city;
or the deep holes left by uprooted trees

For me
the piano is merely an ornament imprisoned in the city
It would like to transform into a monster
spread its wings and fly away

THE PIANO