Poetry
I chewed
Like the tasty beaten rice*
And swallowed the whole,
But the color of the ink
I’d never gulp down my throat,
It blends with saliva
In the salivated mouth
And dribbles
Out of my lips.
Following the poetry
Digested in my stomach
The poet inside me
Exploits
Again this dribbled ink
To scribble another poetry.
The inexplicable
Imageries
Really endure
The soul of this poetry.
The colors
Of my ink-stained face
Enhance an elusive excellence
In my poetry
Like the sparkling galaxy.
May 16th,2005
* Beaten rice, a kind of rice cooked and beaten in the mill
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem