White plates stack like clouds
Laundries piled up as mountains
From dawn to dusk that thin figure
Flickering in this dim world
Oil drops, grease marks
Mixed up her sweat and tears
Becomes ashen cream
Smeared off her pure fair face
Bed is her dreamland
But every short coma
Is ended by a sudden woke
Kitchen is her battlefield
Grand feasts roll like swelling wave
And left her squatting on the remains
Weeping and swallowing the leftover soup
A pair filthy tiny bony shaky hands
Cannot bear to hold up a teacup
And so much dirt still cannot cover
The needle mark and knife scar on her fingers
Her sleepy eyes never dare to shut
Never be able to open wide, yet
They can’t close up her fear and desperation
Night is her only friend
When people are quiet, she’s afraid no more
Night is her true family
It’s like a kind goddess
Listens to her words and prayers
Ah! Mother!
Let the rats become good horses
Let my coal cart be a pumpkin coach
Let me dash to a foreign kingdom
To dance with my white horse prince
And he shall adore my pure feet
And following my fragrant step
He shall find me and marry me!
Night, eternally silent
She repeatedly speaks her dream
She repeatedly looks up to the stars
That pale moon is going sink again
And when the red sun rises from east
There will be a wild storm again.
Laijon Liu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-cinderella-lament/
