/ Desolation
Immense ice cubes piled in the wheat field,
Discarded buses crowd the avenue.
Moon, have you traveled
to a place more desolate than here?
I read in the dreary classroom.
I still don’t know book is book, life is life.
I walk in the dusky air,
just walk, not poetically meander.
I see two lovers embrace in the cold wind,
and turn into stone.
I see a fish that has grown wings
die in the tree.
A bronze statue in the park at the street juncture
stares deadly at somewhere.
Will he raise his hand
and smash the frozen fountain?
Something resembling the sun stops over the city gate,
shrieks miserably like a large bird.
Moon, have you traveled
to a place more desolate than here?
Do you know, is this before history
or after our death?
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