(590–660)
Two Untitled Poems
THE city wall’s the noodle dumpling,
What’s inside’s just the meatball.
One each, and don’t complain
about the flavor.
[J.P.S.]
WHEN the rich pass proudly by
on big, smooth horses,
I feel foolish
riding my scrawny donkey.
I feel much better
when we overtake
a bundle of sticks
riding a bony man.
[S.H.]