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The Old Women Of The Water Village
i
they are singing
paddling the boats that we are riding
following the path of a river
that shows us
old houses made of stones
we pass the bridge
where once the famous
Chinese painter
brushed
water colors for the
emperor
ii
for a fee
we have given them work
we are the tourists and they are
singing
if only we can understand the lyrics
of their old serenade
a la Venice
we could have realized
how stupid we are...
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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