You walked into a summer afternoon
When the field suddenly cooled by an etching thunderstorm
Half naked, your bare feet probed into
The lukewarm muddy water paddy
When the slippery loaches
Kept rubbing the hairs on your legs
You rotated the knobbly stone mill
Pressing the steamy soybeans
When the sweat drops perking off on your forehead
Your craggy muscles were so intense
The grey stone seemed to you not heavy enough
To press out plenty enough soymilk
You lay in a mosquito net among the noisy cicada
Let the cold wet towel wiping through
Your salty, sun burnt back
The door was opened
What out of the door were mountains
What out of the mountain were clouds
What inside me were you
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