Apricot blossoms, rhetoric of spring
Awakened by the breeze to the momentary fury
We read almond blossom poems in the almond garden
Only a single flower on the branch is missing
In the cold of spring, there are remnants of flowers everywhere
Sending the pale, little by little, into the mud
As if it had reached the lips of the dead
We insist on reading aloud for the dead
From the city of Wusun to the land of Guzi
There, under every almond tree
Under every almond tree, there is a wine cellar, and the soldiers returning from the slaughter
Soldiers returning from slaughter, drunk all night long
Mistaking dancers for peacocks
And see the rain of flowers as a flying sky
History is a leaky altar
Dispersing the fragrance of wine and all the fragrances
We carry the dark force of time
And yet we appear as each person is
At this moment, after finishing the reading
I walk through the fading apricot orchard in silence
Far from the large green apricot groves on the hillside
Like a drifter, like a flock of sheep
Loved and hurt by fragile things
Having a moment like an apricot blossom
About the Creator
Christy R Davis
If you want your dreams to come true, you must first wake up from your dreams.
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