December Roads
I walk beneath the stunning
winter sun
another year.
It’s seems that I’ve been here
forever, ever
since the highwaymen
released my greener days
with cavalier
deception.
Now my eyes are blinded by
this last
enlightenment
which fills the sky.
It rides the pale
horizon—with a smile
that fills my spirit with
anxiety
instead of dread.
I’ve seen its crocodile
despondency before,
its watery
pretext.
But travelers have said its bite
feels nothing
as its awful howl
of night.
NIGHT SNOW
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Translating Chinese poetry into English is not a simple matter of
equivalency. Chinese — particularly the classical Chinese of poetry, is
rather like Japan...
3 days ago

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