Wood Going On Emaciated - Poem by bisheng zhu
Wood going on emaciated，
Night, more rarefied。
My dream lightest，
Even ants could lift it up。
Hunger most simple
And understandable to any animal.
Even at deep night，
Its body will keep turning over，
As if worried for memorial one loss。
no one woke up.
He uttered shout only in a dream。
Bickering at daytime，
Spittle splashed on the ground was dry thoroughly，
All was in the air.
He only saw a mask dimly，
Was a wry smile.
But no one had see，
Picked up and made it in a sentence.
Comments about Wood Going On Emaciated by bisheng zhu
Edgar Allan Poe
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