head for the back roads
take in the wonder of a faint yellow sun
green hills and snow
gently rolling thunder
passive triangular monuments
and the beauty of a town
bathed in studded pinnacles
all so far away now
like a memory from a century
300 years in the past,
when the country was host
to feudal provinces
and brutal warlords
who ruled the lives of everyone
under a quasi-unificatory banner,
like a huge forest
at the foot of a mountain
- from Poems from the 90s
