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)