Li Yi's Poetry Collection 57

About This Novel

Stuff the crumpled paper into the wind Didn't write "missing"-- I only mentioned the old persimmon tree in the back hill. This year The fruit dropped earlier than last year. ‖ The wind did not turn back. But at night, the patterns on the back of each leaf They were all crooked and said for the mountain: "Received."‖ The rain hit the glass without making a loud noise I counted the sounds, like counting When I was a child, my mother used stitches to mend clothes. Until the crack in the window leaks in, and the first ray of coolness comes.

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