she is radiant like a peafowl,
mystical like a hong-hoc bird, and
legendary like a Lac bird
emerging from the bronze drums and
ancient stories. she dances and curves
gracefully, she sings in high notes
melodiously, she transforms into
gods and immortals, and she swallows
people’s souls in dreams that she’s craved
for in the burning night of crazy
fire. she calls for her people to go
like wandering ghosts, like soldiers
of the afterlife, like the six kinds
of animals, like dogs, like chickens,
like trash and dust. she does all just for
a deceiving happiness, and for
a love hidden in an oriental
corner that has been passed along
for generations resentfully.
and the tail of the monkey grows
longer and the beautiful hair
vanishes while she sits on the
triumphal throne among the pigs
in jeans, shows her red butt and laughs
screechingly…