Poet:Bei Dao
Words are the poison in a song
on the track of the song’s night road
police sirens aftertaste
the alcohol of sleepwalkers
waking up, a headache
like the window’s transparent speakers
from silence to a roar
learning to waste a life
I hover in the birdcalls
crying never
when the storms have filled up with gas
light rays snatch the letter
unfold it and tear it up
