“Life is no longer a marathon, But a mobile phone.” You said, in a teasing tone. “Although you are greek enough, You are wrong!” I recited Kubla Khan several years ago. As time goes by, Xanadu was ruined And intruded by a hyacinth girl, who Grew hyacinth beside the deep romantic chasm. At the same time, I met an Abyssinian maid In Debussy's Gardens in the Rain, And recited my poem for her— Mortarboard is a black ray Lashing its prejudiced tail To expel octopuses and lantern fishes In a dark sea trench. In Taiwan, the late autumn is just like the early summer. When I occasionally passed by your flat this morning, I almost forgot that you had passed away. I used to knock your door in the late morning, After your parents went out. We drank coffee and talked for an hour, Playing Chinese chess to bet our lunch. It was a late autumn, a sterile autumn. We failed in our joint entrance high-school examination. Then we knightly entered a night school together. And we didn't care it a damn, For a great man always harvests after he dies. No, I did care, but I thought, It was still, still in the early summer, so early. “You are as deep as a sea trench. I am only a shallow,” you said. “But I only breed oysters, octopuses, And lantern fishes,” I said, “A shallow is full of energy!” I am so sorry, so sorry. I didn't know you were a hell angel. I really didn't know. If… “If you chew a sugarcane, you start from its root or its end?” “Form it's end,” I said, thought I was an amateur historian. “So we are different,” you said. I am so sad, so sad. “Why did you leave your ex-girl friend?” I said, “She's a nice girl, I met her accidentally yesterday and She told me that she hopes she could have a chance…” “Shout up!” you said, “Let's play our chess. I am not the general of my heart, I am only a private, O.K.” Citizen Kane is a good movie. Worth it to see. I know you had never seen it before. That's all right. I will tell you the story. Though I am not a good storyteller, I will stammer, stumble, stutter, Exhaust myself to tell you the whole story, To gyrate the world. I will recite Kubla Khan again, Scything the weeds and expel the hyacinth girl, Bringing the Abyssinian maid back And rebuilding the pleasure-dome. Although I am Greek enough—I am Rome. -- http://www.wretch.cc/blog/kamadevas\ --

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