Within My Ribs Poem by Bankim Let

The trees within me still tremble
Beside the river, beside the temple

The egret, in the marsh, in search of fish
which nibble moving moon and starry-fish

The blade of grass and fallen leaves,
This evening, in darkness, weep and live

The flute of cowboys dreams alone,
Off the woods and mustard field, long forlorn

On the scarecrow near the shanty of reeds
My father's palmbrella against the breeze

Swings tick-tock, tick-tock by the wheat-stack
As if calling: come back, come back, come back

The stick of jasmine in cold and dole
Slowly shrivels like my fading soul