After the Chinese Poet Liu Yong by George Freek

AFTER THE CHINESE POET LIU YONG

Crows pick at the bones

of one of their kind.

He is gazing at the stars,

But with sightless eyes,

those stars, where our hopes

and our dreams reside,

but where many troubles lie.

Seeking somewhere else to feed,

the crows scatter like leaves

blowing around their feet,

as they leave their dead.

Crows know no better.

They only know what they need.

If we scorn their indifference,

the crows wouldn’t care.

We have a morality

they will never share.

Nature has its own concerns,

and if it seems cruel,

that’s nature’s way.

It’s something I must learn.