Chen Minghua
MOURNING
Time flies like light passing through blinds to the second shelf on the first book rack by the window, an old alarm clock between a few books of poetry, lingering on the second hand, as big as “Driftwood” by Luo Fu, but I still browse like an impatient youth to verify yellowing memories the umpteenth time.
3/18/19
Translated by MW, May 2020
标签: age, alarm, books, Chen Minghua, clock, death, 陳銘華, hand, light, memory, NPC, poetry, time, youth, 新世紀詩典, 新世纪詩典
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