by Liang Xiaoming
(translated by Denis Mair)
Poetry unfolds along my eyebrows, back to where I can’t see
Poetry owns every hair on my head
It plants wheat on every inch of my scalp
Poetry wakens in my nostrils
Wide awake it raises a sail of jute
And heads downstream
When poetry charges through my lips
You hear birdcalls and sunshine
Sounds of waves greeting clouds
Poetry crosses rough terrain to find my feet
It passes through the sky to discover my eyes
Bright and clear as a piece of rare glass
Where its whiskers show in tiny reflections
White hairs fleck its temples for today’s sake
Throat here and ready when it shows itself
Poetry leans on my shoulder weeping
Poetry stands at my ear singing
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