I stand in the advancing light, my hands hungry, the world beautiful. My eyes can't get enough of the trees-- they're so hopeful, so green. A sunny road runs through the mulberries, I'm at the window of the prison infirmary. I can't smell the medicines-- carnations must be blooming nearby. It's this way: being captured is beside the point, the point is not to surrender. Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)