The grandpa of my grandpa arrived
From the Orient’s distant shore.
From picture books within the ‘Culture’ catalogue,
Concealed beneath crimson silk covers,
Dragon tails entwine with billowing clouds;
Elders and youth fit into Qipaos adorned with
Plum blossoms, phoenixes, lotuses, and peaks,
The rising Sun and the waxing Moon,
The Great Wall—a stone river
Winding from West to Eastern lands,
Long enough to trace from Space.

​

The grandpa of my grandpa
Rests under the earth bed on the
Opposing edge of the Pacific’s breadth.
That mysterious motherland
Waves her hand at me. I could not
See, on this side of the Pacific Ocean,
Yet her wave calls me.