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by Yindi (1937 - )
English translation: William Chong

Seated, time sits with me.
I am shocked by “destruction.”
“Destruction,” I think about the “destruction” in the world, all that “destruction.”
Time is an executioner, killing everything in the world. What is absurd is that I have to remember that Time nurtures everything.

Everything, everything we possess in the world, is conjoined in fortune and misfortune, sadness and joy. Time is a clock; its pendulum either left or right, always causing us to regret life’s imperfections between our gains and losses.

In our youth, we control and make use of time; in old age, time controls us, and we can only but succumb. In our youth, no one feels the flow of time; in old age, the passage of time has the weight of a mountain, crushing us till we are out of breath.

Time no longer slowly slips away, but like a running giant, chases after us, sucking away the light and beauty from our lives.

── from Rensheng Shigan (Ten Reflections on Life)