Chance

I am a cloud in the sky
that may pass—by chance—over your heart;
you don't have to be surprised,
you need not rejoice—
I'll disappear again in an instant.

We meet on the sea of night,
travelling—you one way, I another—
so perhaps you will remember,
or better still, forget,
the light exchanged in this encounter.
Xu Zhimo (1896-1931)
translated by Prontobard (2022)