She's the younger sister of a homecoming youth, compliant and sweet
She only attended primary school, but her braids reach past her waist
She's very shy, always avoiding my looks
I am very fond of her, always hang out with her brother
One day I bring back from the city an old-fashioned camera
She has no choice but to stand before my lens
Finally through my narrowed lids I can clearly see her pretty face
I say this type of camera is easy to use but hard to focus
As she's about to cry I press the shutter
Her pain and suffering in black and white makes her even more lovable
Of course later she lets me ride on the back of her bike
When weeding in the paddies she also lets me wipe my sweat with her flowery kerchief
Each evening of that green spring I have difficulty sleeping
I fantasize about taking her far away - washing clothes making meals
I think when wheat grows tall it's time to take in the harvest
When the sorghum's reddest, it must be reaped and the grain tax paid
So the day before I leave the village, I touch her breasts
Riding ahead, her brother not once turns his head
Her body trembles, the bike wobbles all over but doesn't fall
Because she wipes her face with a sleeve, I think she cries
I think I'll surely return to take her away, feelings long intentions incessant
Later I don't go back
And she never answers my letters
Later still many years pass and I return to the village
She's now a mother - warm and virtuous
She still lowers her head, still goes red in the face
As her man has gone off to make money
She says she doesn't go into the fields, only makes the meals
She says she never received my letters
She says she sees I'm well and she's at peace
Yes I see she's well and I also am at peace
(Translated by Denis Mair, from Diary of the Educated Youth)