Yang Lian
from Twenty-four Short Poems
Birth
the garden doesn’t grow
this white space is moonlight
veins of the stone distinct as letters
from the ends of their branches a bird flows
birdsong
stretches someone out
deep green of mosses figured like spilling blood
all of it fled from the world
and everywhere moving
bodies without bone
Translated by Yang Lian
Page(s) 282
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