JIE XU

This is a garden lying at a fork in the road.
The zigzag path runs through the meadow slope with undulating X and W-shape.
Meadow grows in sparsity, blurring your eyes:
She is glistening yet shaded, she is enchanting yet gloomy;
Meadow sprawls, obscuring the path:
She has brushed past but is yet to come, she has arrived but has already gone.
What you see is invisible, what you pass is not a road.
No matter how you choose to depart,
There was ever a garden, here,
there was never a garden, here.



This is a garden lying at a fork in the road.
At the confluence of X and W-shape meadow slope,
is where you fall in deeper and deeper.
The ground under your feet is gradually above and hide you away;
You come with the light while flee away in seeking the light.
No matter how you choose to depart,
there was ever a garden, here,
there was never a garden, here.

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This is a garden lying at a fork in the road.
No matter which way you take, there are two paths to leave:
One exit is called remember, another is called forgetting.
No matter how you choose to depart,
there was ever a garden, here,
there was never a garden, here.