At night Chinamen jump on Asia with a thump while in our willful way we, in secret, play affectionate games and bruiseour knees like China’s shoes. The birds push apples throughgrass the moon turns blue, these apples roll beneathour buttocks like a heath full of Chinese thrushesflushed from China’s bushes. As we love at nightbirds sing out of sight, Chinese rhythms beatthrough us in our heat, the apples and the birdsmove us like soft words, we couple in the graceof that mysterious race.
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At night Chinamen jump
on Asia with a thump

while in our willful way
we, in secret, play

affectionate games and bruise
our knees like China’s shoes.

The birds push apples through
grass the moon turns blue,

these apples roll beneath
our buttocks like a heath

full of Chinese thrushes
flushed from China’s bushes.

As we love at night
birds sing out of sight,

Chinese rhythms beat
through us in our heat,

the apples and the birds
move us like soft words,

we couple in the grace
of that mysterious race.