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Comments about Ziying Suu
What Is It That Draws Us Toward Death And Mystery
I am silent:
With no history
No mother tongue
No one receives
With what do I speak?
Night falls day by day
Has the liver daily-pecked
Provisionally concealed —
Joy of Life!
That which daily teared and heals
Nails me tight down the wheel of time
No comrade with me to end this virtual war.
Like an eagle hovers above the waste land
I'm a godless priest
A shrine darkening
Is my body
What is it that draws us toward death and toward mystery —
Ah Joy of Life
Like the gun against our chests
Forces silence to speak
What is the mystery ...