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Bel Canto

Autumn night, wind rises, insects singing
and swirling. An outsider walks through all the national
boulevards and then his hometown trails,
carrying a Moon first, but now only his naive heart.
He's not lonely, but feels alone, empty.
In a city full of people, he’s never been one of them.
Even the street lights look like eyes peeking at his life.
Now, lovers are coming out of the western gate
of East Lake, ready to have midnight snacks
by the Liberation Avenue, stuffing their mouths
through the lips that've just kissed or been kissed.
Autumn wind is blowing, a naive heart insomnia.
A sleepless guy rambles and tumbles along,
rummaging through in the dark.

(excerpt of a long poem)