Saturday, May 10, 2014

The water of a spring is pent up (or A Self-portrait)

By X. Z. Shao

The water of a spring is pent up
by the wall of the well.
Touch it, it is so pure;
drink it, it is so sweet.
It is so still,
it cannot flow,
it doesn’t gush,
it has no pulses.
No, all those are wrong.
It is the same water everywhere.
Only,
It is sinking in the longest and the most violent dream
in which the thickest wall is breached. 

     Evening, November 21, 2010

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