Tailing Dam stands tall, Mine Lake hangs high.
At dike’s end stand a few grasses, snake-like.
In the dam, the hot lake assails the nostrils.
Dense and white, the ore pulp is so fierce.
It is in the mist,
not the splashed ink of Baotou Steel’s coal yard.
Thorium gets into the soil,
the chemo pitch and deep, foamy well; in the Yellow River uranium whirls.