Four men, a woman, a dog and three children
In sharp focus. Three ghost children also
Have come to be photographed though one,
Grown bored, is walking out of the picture.
A wind makes the light cotton clothes dance;
The heavy overalls hang glumly on the line.
Han Shan, it has been fifteen hundred years
Since your last poem. Wake up, old man,
And finish this one for me!
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