A Haibun
I stroll down Spadina Avenue, passing by a Chinese street singer. Slowly, I move out of earshot. I come across curious tourists, mingle with bargain hunters, and am grabbed by smiling vendors. But the song chases after me, manifesting itself as my lips move in reflex.
store window...
afraid of this
reflected face
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a unique way to express the truth...we are confused of our identity......well done...... advance congratulation for your 1000 th poem.....nurul