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Poetry
Passing the Graves of My Sisters and Brothers
Four poems of Kuan Hsiu (832-912)
J. P. Seaton
Tears that never fell 'til now, this day fall.
Before real mountains these grave mounds loom.
My elders, no more than I, had strength to stop this . . .
The home so poor they cast you off: a long time ago.
A goose in the emptiness, where the frost has snapped the weeds.
Marsh orchids, a jungle, wither on your graves.
"The pain of family love": a karma I haven't cast off yet.
I can't bear it: turn away, but walk so slow, so slowly.
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