Someone wishes you dead,
But your breasts become more like precious jade each day.

Someone wishes infirmity upon you,
But your hair is black
And heaven comes down to watch
You wade through the mud
Alone
Shaking out your shirt,
Returning wind to the clouds.

Someone wishes you orphaned,
But you sing among low-flying dragonflies.

"Black clouds have gone to seal heaven's gates -
Young leaves hoping for someone's face after rain."