You Cannot Break the Wings of Poetry

— I’m just going to carry on here in this sort of unconnected notes form. The times seem to call for it or at least my attention span does. — I read a poem lately that went straight to my heart:Poetry Itself Is a Kind of Sunlight by YanyiBelieve me, poetry itself is a kind of sunlightNo substance has been found anywhere in the cosmosThat can break the wings of poetry.Here’s a chance at last to meet one another,The river in Shenzhen chuckles merrilyThe sky sheds joyous tears.Though we’ve never met before,We can love each other with brotherly sincerity,As if we’d lived in the same familyTen thousand years ago.Then, believe me, after a hundred thousand years,We’ll still be inseparable.Yes, there is a continual interweaving of poetry’s sunlightWhile poetry’s sun and our heartsBurn togetherWarming and illuminating the cold world.(translated by Fang Dai, Dennis Ding, & Edward Morin, found here)— Another poem by Yanyi here. — Recently read: quotes from Sean Cranbury’s Field…