Dusk
Mao Dun

The sea is deep blue, and cannot be called smooth, for countlessrows of small breakers are marching in parade-step as if following the shoutedcommand, "One, two! One!" — towards the trumpet-shaped jetty. Crowdedclose together, they rush to the sandy beach-splash! The marching ranks scatterand burst into angry spray. The rows immediately behind follow suit.

A few white seagulls flicker across the surface of the sea, quicklyand lightly, wings skimming the waves which become, little by little,increasingly restive.

The wind is trumpeting, a bugle calling to charge! Small breakersspring up, each breaker like a large eye casting out golden sparks. The wholesea is full of golden eyes, all leaping. Rumble—rumble... beneath the jetty abattle cry bursts forth.

The sea's golden eyes fall into ranks, each rank pursued by thenext, each angrier than the last and deepening to blood-red as they stretch tothe golden line of the horizon. There, above, lies the fiery half circle of thesetting sun!

Half the sky burns red, pressing heavily down upon the bald head ofthe sun.

The indignantly struggling sun seems to be saying:

"Oh! Oh! I have completed today's historic duty; I havefinished today's journey! Now, now, my time to rest has come; my time to die ishere. Oh! Oh! And yet, it is also my rebirth that will soon begin! Tomorrow,from the other end of the sea, I shall bravely hoist myself up, give you light,give you warmth, give you joy!"

Whooo-huuu...

The wind carries the declaration of the never-dying sun to all theworld. The highest peaks of the Himalayas; the endless waters of the Pacific;small, old, gloomy villages; cities frozen by silver lights upon each and everyone, the setting sun scatters its blood-red flames!

The sky, deepening to ochre, is broken by two or three seagulls.

The wind that carried the countless leaping golden eyes smooththemselves down into a great, dull, green face.

From near, then far, comes the solemn, tragic sound of a flute.

Night's black curtain will be heavily lowered, but has not yetcompletely fallen.

The wind, having gone no-one-knows-where, suddenly returns, returnsas a beating drum: Boom-lum-lum, Boom-lum-lum! No, not the wind alone, butthunder! The wind carries the voice of thunder!

The sea roils again, waves surging high, Crash! Crash!

To the night-bound sea a storm has come!