Touch her carefully, an untidy kid,
An exquisite movement happens when she shows
A laugh, ample and is split widely in thirty seconds-
Half minute, rivers trotted as if Rousseau's tears knit
A journey of silvers, guides lost winds.
Travelers, dear wonderers covering in the same starch.
Stomachs they know, lasagnes, tortillas, dumplings,
Take a mouth of full tastes, then float to their abodes of a forlorn arch.
Await, a story, another unheard tale is told by the old mother.
They say, even animals can, lead the Buddha across salt grinds.
So let me crouch down, my dear little star,
Bending self as I stride back through twenty years,
As ever the phoenix reborn back to her East far,
And lost, again in a single womb of tears.
Don't you dare cry again, my beloved Arianna,
As you know the truth, when every mother is not yet awake
Towards little feet, step by step take their determined,
First, sorrow.
(This is a spontaneous poem I wrote, when a little kid called Arianna hugged me after a football session I coached. She was two years old, sat tightly alongside her loving parents, and I, a 22 years old foreign girl, endlessly miss my family back home.)
YOU ARE READING
Tigress from the east
PoetryA poetry collection written by a Chinese girl. Biggest life goal of her: sitting in perfect balance of daylights and nights, back towards a mysterious naked tree, a cup of chai is better than coffee. Thinking, turn a being as living
