Ascending no sound,
like that tender wind in my northern land,
but the pen in hand,
shatter the ground.
It is me,
a breath of frozen air which embrace
fire and raise
sunflowers on knees.
But I'm doomed to run,
travel five hours ahead with the night
——when my battle outgun,
iron petals confront beasts across the river in sight.
But the river I stare down,
a girl silently flows,
pouring tea in dawn,
and the same faith she knows,
burns silently,
impartially yet loudly,
under hundreds and thousands traveling feet.
So I drink it up,
fire through a senseless body
when the sensibility roots in every woman's cup,
and draw a sunflower's rhapsody.
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
