Solitude is an ancient beast hiding in my jagged rock heart a stripe on his back that changes color— I know it’s a protective device for his species Loneliness in his eyes, he often stares at distant floating clouds and yearns for celestial shifting and wandering He lowers his head and muses, allowing the wind and rain to whip his abandoned ferocity his wind-eroded love
Solitude is an ancient beast hiding in my jagged rock heart When it thunders, he moves slowly laboriously, into my wine cup and with adoring eyes looks at a twilight drinker I know at a moment like this he regrets having left his familiar world and entering my cold wine. I lift the cup to my lips and with kindness send him back into my heart
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Yang Mu
Solitude
Solitude is an ancient beast
hiding in my jagged rock heart
a stripe on his back that changes color—
I know it’s a protective device for his species
Loneliness in his eyes, he often stares at
distant floating clouds and yearns for
celestial shifting and wandering
He lowers his head and muses, allowing the wind and rain to whip
his abandoned ferocity
his wind-eroded love
Solitude is an ancient beast
hiding in my jagged rock heart
When it thunders, he moves slowly
laboriously, into my wine cup
and with adoring eyes
looks at a twilight drinker
I know at a moment like this he regrets
having left his familiar world
and entering my cold wine. I lift the cup to my lips
and with kindness send him back into my heart
1976
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