The Light and Sweetness

The figure is shaped into an elegant reverse L.
She's looking at something on the ground.
I can imagine the freshness of her face;
I can see hot steam in the public bathroom livening up her skin.
Danger!
You forgot yourself in sketching,
While other women, ugly and earthly, discovered your pencil and papers.
They were yelling at you, beating you,
And dispelling you nakedly out of the bathroom.
That is the story of you,
A simple-minded prostitute
Being transformed into a dedicated painter with your own statement.
Women, all sorts of, nude or not,
Form the central theme of femininity in your painting.
Supple and extravagant in their hips and buttocks,
Tender and confident on their faces,
The strokes are lucid and decisive.
Strangely, such an impression coincides with
The story I read more than 20 years ago,
Which was printed in installment on a local newspaper.
Probably such an installed reading is like a ritual,
With which your life is elevated into a personal growing experience.
Roaming around your painstakingly recuperated paintings,
The radiant images have blurred my eyes.
I know my adolescent imagination
Has been distorted and faded away,
Yet it still retains the light and sweetness
In the confluence of your timeless representations.

(On the occasion of the exhibition of Pan Yuliang's Painting in the Capital Museum)