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H.Y. Fu Poem
We are young
Love to sing the red maple’s sorrow
Love to ask why people are so busy
Love teasing merchants as they crazily whooped
Sometimes we see sparrow’s head overturned
We will laugh all day long
Life is dancing with the cloud and moon
Poetry is the vintage
Drunk together with sunset
The days passed, nonsense with reveries
The old prophet read my palm prints
He saw a great success in my future
But, what if it lost its tune, just like a song
No more applause and I will be totally alone
Copyright © H.Y. Fu | Year Posted 2016
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H.Y. Fu Poem
Storing many years of waiting
Gambling with my neighbors
I bet my descendants will team up to come
This year they won’t miss
Nurtured in my arms, my children
will bring baskets
a vintage, a fresh food
After the sun awoke up
Moss-paved paths rang
Oh, my heart bounced eagerly
(The sun skewed…)
Gripped by thousands of my yearn
I saw tides come and go
Burning swiftly, the ghost of money
was temptation; was grey happiness
Scattered over my neighbors’ chest
where weeds were pulled out
Rowed out from my veins
My children didn’t come
Shards of rain seemed to cry
•Qingming Festival is the East Asian lunar holiday .
it usually begins around 4 or 5 April and ends around 20 April.
Dduring these days, relatives gather in graveyard to worship their ancestor.
Copyright © H.Y. Fu | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
H.Y. Fu Poem
Mountains in outside world, rivers in Utopia
Rivers are delusion, Mountains are mirage
Light tides with sound waves are never end
Lights splendid, but the stars dim
A girl fell down with a screaming on the road
Only few strangers threw a cold attention
All souls are asking for a holiday
But, the flowers are too tired to welcome
We got no flowers to enjoy; we got no moon to indulge
Only look beyond the high rise buildings and set off our hallucination
Mountains are not the mountains, rivers are not the rivers
You are not you, and I am not me either
Copyright © H.Y. Fu | Year Posted 2016
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