I can tell you about ancient Chinese poetry
But I can't say anything about modern politics.

I learned long ago
The closer you get
To the Dragon's mouth
The more dangerous your life becomes.

And *******!
To every Republican in the USA.

The aroma of those Lilacs,
will be green...
Its buds...
Your buds...
Among the white dress
they move;
your eyes...
Dead summer cherries...
Among your ears
So they have voice;
your eyes...
And your hands,
 A moment;
suspended
in time....
And how burning they will be this year
the whiteness of your hands,
In the absence of
white orange blossoms
in the garden
In the absence....

They will fall to the ground...
Blossoms of the cherry tree...
Without you,
being in my womb...
ripening grain,
And the heady scent
of primrose flowers
from the moon...
and his dust...


به روی زمین خواهند ریخت...
شکوفه هايِ درختِ آلبالو...
بی آنکه تو،
در رَحِمَم باشي...
دانه اي،
در حالِ رسیدن...
و عطرِ خوشِ پامچال ها...
از ماه
و خاكِ او....