This City | 这城市

By and | 31 October 2020

This city is truly pure
The flowers have been sterilised
The moon inoculated
All the luminous shine of the mountains and colours of the sea
Have been distilled
Even car sounds and birdsongs have conformed to the norm

Footsteps on the streets
One following the other, one answering the other
Oddly enough, now behaving so well they are untainted
While poetry no longer causes any pain or stirs an itch,
The so-called suggestions, symbolism and ambiguity
All end up embalmed in ethanol

This city is truly pure
So pure it’s astonishing
Buildings adhere seamlessly to the ground
No sudden tantrums from the clouds
No startled wind
Not even a tendril of peculiar smell
Not to mention
Those sand grains so fond of sneaking into the eyes

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