Spring is here. In the soil,
Where hooves used to trample,
Grasses are about to come out.
With unconstrained force of life
The grasses, swaying, stretching,
Spring up — as if by volition!
And they seem to say,
“We don’t care. The one who is to grow, grows.
Sweet dew is upon us; a warm wind is blowing.
The time is now: We can no longer stay buried.
Trample they may as well;
We have a duty to fulfil.”
on the night of 25 December, 1922[?]
The following poem in Chinese appears as it was written originally, any textual ambiguities or irregularities notwithstanding.