The Barbaric City’s Head

In the attic of fate

In a hiding line’s May

(A Head)

was hiding itself again.

the shining test’s satisfying little day

the sleepy and worried hand holding the other

flowed freely just as a waves crashed

and I have to swallow them in he tangled skein

the fragrance of rain drop

a drop of snow with sand in it and the flower mountain

as the hit of various versions

along the bosom, light was kept the deep green.

When in the middle of line with the several bullet holes

Bones of imagination turned white and come to decay,

The layer of devious dream,

These white boulders collapsed, city ruined, a pit was dug

And reluctantly, each barbaric city’s head was buried in it.

Phyu Mon
Translated from the Burmese by Ke’ Su Thar