A poem by Chinese person YANG LIAN
blue is always higher just as your weariness has chosen
the sea just as a man’s gaze compels the sea
to be twice as desolate
going back as ever
to that carved stone ear where drumbeats are destroyed
where tiny coral corpses fall in a snowstorm
gaudy speckles on dead fish
like the sky that holds all your lust
go back to the limit like limitlessness
going back to the cliffs stormheads all around
your pipes doomed to go on playing
after your death tunes of corruption deep in the flesh
as blue is recognized at last the wounded
sea a million candles stands dazzlingly still
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