Last rainy season with the only love scene
Which never lets up … .
2008. 2009. 2010. … .
Which never let up … .
Days and nights that have gone wrong. Limited, present seconds.
Yangon roads that are so meaningless. Lost footsteps.
Wide plains of morning. Woods of uncertainty.
A magician’s worn-and-torn hats. Fallen dice. Strings.
Broken glasses. Capillaries in the wrist. Colourful stones.
Dusty brain parts. Beating 14-ounce pieces.
Pure happiness. Personal egos.
Same evil ideas of mind and body. Unavoidable misses.
Wrong dialogues. Black-and-white films. Gone things. Periods.
Yesterdays. Sundays. Smoke fossils. Acute angles.
U turns. First times. In one’s lifetimes.
Her long mahogany hair. Man-like plastic toys.
Aliens and hellboys. Cut fingernails.
‘Please be quiet’s. Ears. Heartbeats.
1,800 miles per hour’s. 45-min pieces. 5-pms.
Unreachable distances. Unconsciousnesses.
Departed trains. Unheard calls and shouts.
Regular cuckoos. Hot seasons. Rainy seasons. Purple flowers.
Blue angels. The-whole-night-walking-together streets.
Lying staircases. Black sofas. Januaries.
Phone rings. Pleasing laughter. Slim and slender fingers.
Sweet voices. Hidden smiles. ‘I’m excited.’s.
Ravings. Suffocating atmospheric broken pieces.
Mirrors. Walls. Third wars with oneself.
Unforgettable strips. Paper cranes that no longer get folded.
Eyeballs floating in the tear. Sunsets and lonely fishing lines.
River-aparts of Kinnari and Kinnara*. Paper kites flying oneself. Empty cigarette boxes.
Lungs cancers. Mental cancers. Outstanding mistakes.
Lonelinesses. Smiling masks. ‘I’m happy.’s.
Lying oneselfs. Humours?
Follow-up: tomorrows to continue.
Kinnara: mythical bird with human head and torso [Pali]
Kinnari: female Kinnara
The Kinnaras are afraid of water. They dare not to cross
the flooded rivers or streams. They usually wait for the tide to be out.
It is believed that in the earlier times, a couple of Kinnari and Kinnara
loved each other so much and when they fell apart, their tears
made a river of Salween (Than Lwin in Myanmar).
The composers also often write that for the Kinnaras,
a night apart means 700 years apart.