Persimmon
Column: Poetry Added Time: December 6, 2010 9:03:15 Source: admin Clicks: 78
My name is Persimmon, I come from the great mountains,
My appearance is very simple, or you could say, very rustic. Love is like a flower.
Due to the environment where I grow being too tranquil and too closed-off,
everything about me is rather ordinary.
I have no sharp edges, nothing extraordinary.
If someone steps on me,
I either don't feel it,
or I turn into a puddle of mud with a splash.
When faced with cunning, strength, and scheming,
I have absolutely no ability to resist.
So,
I fear being dragged into competition.
Since it was the great mountains that nurtured me,
please don't push me into the city.
I grew up in tranquility,
so let me perish in peace.
In the bustling dust of the city,
with all its dazzling colors, I lose myself.
City life is too hard.
Mother, I want to return to the great mountains.
Father, teach me how to plow and farm.
God, why could my ancestors live that way,
but I cannot return to the past?