Poem
Zeyar Lynn
Chronicle of Kings
Father was temperamental. A cane always at his fingertips.A thunderbolt of a whim. Little brother fled him up into
A tree. He still has yet to come down. Father had felled that tree.
Mother’s body was a refugee camp.
Strange, all the siblings managed to grow up there.
When mother died, father shook her corpse like a maniac.
Then . . . he disappeared. No news whatsoever.
All his children now have their own families.
Whose child will be his incarnation?
We remain on the lookout for his shadow.
© Translation: 2012, ko ko thett
Chronicle of Kings
Chronicle of Kings
© 2012, Zeyar Lynn
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Poems of Zeyar Lynn
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Chronicle of Kings
Father was temperamental. A cane always at his fingertips.A thunderbolt of a whim. Little brother fled him up into
A tree. He still has yet to come down. Father had felled that tree.
Mother’s body was a refugee camp.
Strange, all the siblings managed to grow up there.
When mother died, father shook her corpse like a maniac.
Then . . . he disappeared. No news whatsoever.
All his children now have their own families.
Whose child will be his incarnation?
We remain on the lookout for his shadow.
© 2012, ko ko thett
Chronicle of Kings
Father was temperamental. A cane always at his fingertips.A thunderbolt of a whim. Little brother fled him up into
A tree. He still has yet to come down. Father had felled that tree.
Mother’s body was a refugee camp.
Strange, all the siblings managed to grow up there.
When mother died, father shook her corpse like a maniac.
Then . . . he disappeared. No news whatsoever.
All his children now have their own families.
Whose child will be his incarnation?
We remain on the lookout for his shadow.
© 2012, ko ko thett
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