From This Poet’s Library- Nguyen Phan Que Mai

The White Sky

I pick up my pen,
not yet writing,
the pages already full of the words of others.

I close my eyes,
not yet dreaming, night
already smeared with the dreams of others.

From beyond the pages, cries of suffering
from where unfairness coolly patrols.

I kneel under the rain,

confess under the white sky.

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