Classic Poem

When I see a wheel I long to make it turn.
Cycle wheels, pram wheels, rickshaw wheels,
carriage wheels,
I long to make even turning wheels turn.
When I'm climbing a steep hill
I long to make even car wheels turn.

On the road everything is unseen
and seen, the childhood days I long to demolish are unseen
and seen, the woods front and back where
different flocks of birds used to chirp
are seen and unseen, the republic of short breath is unseen
and seen; the tangerines piled on streetside stalls,
the pots upturned in the pottery store, people lying curled up:
before everything collapses, just once,
I want to make them turn, on the flying road.