Artful are the gestures of his mouth, elaborate and
full of guile. When he draws back the bow of
his lips his face is like a mask of lacquer, set with
teeth of pearl, fantastic, terrible....
What strange tale lives in the gestures of his mouth?
Does a fox-maiden, bewitching, tiny-footed, lure a
scholar to his doom? Is an unfilial son tortured
of devils? Or does a decadent queen sport with
her eunuchs?

I cannot tell.
The faces of the people are wooden; only their eyes
burn dully with a reflected light.
I shall never know.
I am alien ... alien.

Nanking


The Well

The Second Well under Heaven lies at the foot of the
Sacred Mountain.
Perhaps the well is sacred because it is clean; or perhaps
it is clean because it is sacred.
I cannot tell.

At the bottom of the well are coppers and coins with
square holes in them, thrown thither by devout
hands. They gleam enticingly through the shallow