Cao Shui: The Riddle of the Pieced Beast

I am no spirit born of heaven and earth,

Ancestors fused countless aspirations

Into one billowing cloud.

Antlers branch from a deer atop my head,

Sprouting giant buds high in celestial space.

My face bears the outline of a swift steed,

My jaws drinking the surging waves of the Yellow River.

My body stretches like a serpentine river,

Coiling around the battlements of the Great Wall.

My coat is clad in fish scales,

Each glinting like scattered stars fallen from afar.

Sharp talons forged as an eagle’s blade,

Slicing open the iron cage of thunder and lightning.

Paws like mountain ridges of a tiger,

Treading frosted snows atop Kunlun’s peaks.

Mane blazes like a lion’s fire,

Scorching the scroll of five thousand years.

Bull’s ears hang like twin bronze bells,

Catching soft whispers rising from wheat fields.

I own no flesh nor mortal blood,

Yet dwell deep within every Chinese heart.

Guess the totem etched in our ancestral bones?

Answer: Chinese Dragon