The poem trying to escape my head
Is too noisy for me to understand.
Is it a love poem, or one made for spite
Or another damned vision coming to me
Because my father who, since his death,
Wears the robes of an adviser
At the court of the last Ming emperor,
Is busy arbitrating the affairs of ghosts?
Is too noisy for me to understand.
Is it a love poem, or one made for spite
Or another damned vision coming to me
Because my father who, since his death,
Wears the robes of an adviser
At the court of the last Ming emperor,
Is busy arbitrating the affairs of ghosts?
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