Oh, stagnant beauty
sun-burnt at birth.
Eyes shining like jewels.
Yet, you still do not dream.
This is reality.
Plum blossoms of the soul,
turned to thorns in wombs.
And still, your lithe body
keeps the silence.
Broken yokes
Oh, stagnant beauty
sun-burnt at birth.
Eyes shining like jewels.
Yet, you still do not dream.
This is reality.
Plum blossoms of the soul,
turned to thorns in wombs.
And still, your lithe body
keeps the silence.
A Wandering Poet 