gun!
bu hao!
They scream at one another
across the street, a chinese woman
her hair dyed red
some faceless man
Cherry blossoms along the path
Of New York City.
I didn't know
that there could be
any flaws in their superior culture
But as I watched with admiration, I saw merely
human imperfection.
I hear then the sound
of a gun. The echoing report
a hateful noise, as awful
as the words. Ducking down to hide
The crowd runs like a flood of water,
Through the lines of yellow cabs, sirens sound
as the screaming rabbits terrified of fire
push past each other, in desperation
of staying alive
Where is my king, and my land?
The flights of the wild geese?
I do not like this place.
Please take me away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem