In the thickening twilight, by the mountain ridge, wind whispers to a child:
When I am gone, there will be a fairytale awaiting you yonder.
Oh, babe, leave behind your name on this land,
Because this is where you will die in pride."
—Epigraph
In this land, I am the history chronicled in the language of the Yi people
A new-born baby by a woman unable to cut the umbilical cord
My name carries anguish
My name carries beauty
My name carries hope
I am a poem of masculinity
Nurtured through thousands of years
By a yarn-spinning woman
My ancient father
A man of men
Is known as Zhixia Aalu to all
And my mother of eternal youth
Is the proud singer of this land
The river that gently flows nearby in silence
Is my lifelong lover
The beauty of beauties
Who is addressed by all as Xiama Aaniu
I have died one thousand deaths
A man who always sleeps facing left
I have died one thousand deaths
A woman who always sleeps facing right
I am a messenger of friendship who comes from afar
Resurrected in the wake of thousands of funerals
I am that trembling consonant
Uttered by my mother at the pitch of her voice
As thousands of funerals reach their climaxes
These are what encapsulate the person I am
But I am more than these encapsulations
Because in me lies the age-old conflict between good and evil
From time immemorial
I am the descendant of love and fantasy
Fostered through thousands of years of fruition
I am the matrimony that has existed since great antiquity
But with still no end in sight
In all truth I am an epitome and incarnation
Of all the allegiances
Of all the betrayals
Of all that is living
Of all that is dead
Oh, the world out there, please heed my answer to thee
I am the native son of the Yi people
