GULL
On the bank of the river gull sings in the cold, no other places, just to himself. It refuses, reflects, down hostile jade honors, with wing feathers, chasing a desire for love, a spear, a puppy in exchange has snow and darkness and showers for bathing. The wind grows, rises to the center of the storm, where only a few know the ocean well from above, and feels transparent shadow, reflected the sun’s screams lonely and desolate.
(Du Fu)