he walked down to the river
saw blossoms in the water
wrote it as a conundrum of color
riot hinting at life and death and sex
my river here is a ditch
it looks ugly at low tide
the stuff i see is trash
cars groan down the road
i remember another river
in a wooded valley steep
where nothing bad happened
and i was happy
knowing that the river
in the valley has not changed
or i am here still looking
at a muddy bank i'm grateful
i can go up north to see my river
with any blossoms that fall
or i imagine
signifying everything
**
to
Tu Fu
1 comment:
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