A verse planted in foreign soil.
A lantern hung on a foreign tree blooms with the same light and shadows
wherever its hung, there it glows;
no foreigners here, it’s only me.
Not many who cannot follow the script;
never mind, it grows where its
thrown or sungplays out its meaning, whatever gift
it has to give, disbursed slowly or swift
burns out and rolls away, off the tongue.
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