"Apricots Died Young, Part IV"

(This is an excerpt from a poem for your consideration.)

by Chiao Meng*

Moon and child,
They stole each other away.

O scarcely lived child of mine,
What's it like,
Blossom after Blossom,
If not endless blue heavens in lament,
Sweetness falling into earthen dust,
Nothing left to bloom in other times?

*Translation by David Hinton.

(This is a portion of the poem's fourth stanza. To read the first stanza, please go here.)

(Photo by audreyjm529 via Flickr, using a Creative Commons License.)

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