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number 707

The distant place,
Lofty and secure destiny—
Snow all year round —

Streams of meltwater,
Running past the mother’s feet,
There she bathed,
Cover me with afterbirth.

Cold springs,
Wrapped around me,
My cry,
Fall to,
Stone crevices at the bottom of mountain streams and deep pools.

On the swaddle of the world,
Embroidered with fire and camellia,
Hung with silver bells,
Twinkling like a star.

Can’t wrap up the night,
It is the forbidden glare,
I use “Hello! Say goodbye.

A path with ferns,
Often collapsed,
A pastoral hidden in the monsoon.

In its purest form,
Scattered by the soil in the wind,
My shape remains the same,
I’m good for nothing.

As a result,
Cold soul,
Gradually plump in the forgotten.

inspired by Xi Guanlei


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