April 25th
My wanderings
stir typhoons,
the same ones my mother wished
would wash away fields of millet and tea.
But in melancholy mountains,
from a village forever,
was a source of strength not fault.
So I will nourish my roots
with typhoons,
And uproot passivity
at every bend of the river.
My wanderings
stir typhoons,
the same ones my mother wished
would wash away fields of millet and tea.
But in melancholy mountains,
from a village forever,
was a source of strength not fault.
So I will nourish my roots
with typhoons,
And uproot passivity
at every bend of the river.