The Whole Land Died

No more nods from the god’s head,
No souled gusts of wind. The slopes
Of the hills hold no more folk
Who keep faith it’s all for them.

Good. I’m glad then, or would be
If I weren’t gone with the rest.
The ghosts of the land were ours
And not the land’s. If land lives,

It’s not thanks to us. We’ve left.
Du Mu, sort of, got the point—
All those fights and all those fires,
The Han fell and land’s soul died.

But no, the birds did not weep.
The thought that a bird could weep,
That the world was all for us,
Whole soul for our kind—that died.