Zaw Zaw Aung - Ma Kyi Pyar and Yuzana Ma Khin Pyar

Sun is angry

If possible.

The moon rises from the edge of the sky, and the sound of its footsteps is not heard.

I don't believe anyone who says that the loudest sound in the world is silence. Everything is so vague. There is a blue scent in his eyes, secretive, bright but not very lively. A horse with a pink mane suddenly stops running. Purple flowers falling from the guava tree... cover me and go. A cicada from the lake. It sings a false song with no highs or lows for a long time, which is disgusting.

The jasmine trees are ablaze with flowers.

Silk and velvet are hard for those who cannot stop their desire. What do you want?

Are you asking me?

If I answer that I want what I don't want, then the answer is a black stone covered in a lace scarf in the sun. Open the window...

Do you want to know what's out there? It's not your job. It's not mine. I advise you not to think about what might be. There might be a garden full of roses. There might be a refrigerator full of Coca-Cola cans. There might be a red button that could launch ten thousand rockets at once. There might be an old professor heavy with knowledge. There might be a staircase with yellow, thin legs climbing up. There might be a broken IBM computer. There might be a man singing with a worm-eaten apple. There might be the fingers of a creator or a broken marriage contract. There might be a surgical laser beam and a golden hope. There might be a painting and a wordless poem. There might be a pile of human spines. There might be a golden dinosaur full of spiders. There may be a cyanide pill under a gold-embroidered silk dress. There may be peace and happiness. There may be nothing. The most important thing is to open the window. Sometimes it takes a lot of courage.

x

x

x

I never promised to give her a bouquet of roses. I have ten thousand cigarettes and a brain that doesn't fit in my head. And I want to let you know that I haven't done both the giving and the taking for a long time. The walls are rusting and running to the edge of the horizon. In one apartment building, yellow paint is smeared. Flowers

The old scent is fresh. Who has left me here? Are the hills green? What is a place? The one who thinks he knows sits at the top of the table. The bright light makes the sweet and delicious food rot. The ten thousand names I have given to that beautiful woman are in the pond. I told ...K... that I would call her tomorrow when I buy a new dress, but I am not there. My absence disappears with the gentle sound of the violin. If I say that her smile, which no one else has, has ruined my life intoxicatingly, then purple orchids will bloom. The bright rays of light that rise up make my life bright and dark. People and scraps of paper have been floating in the cold wind for a long time. No matter how much you try to correct the sentence "My beautiful wife" according to the grading rules, you will never be able to correct the blurring that is growing inside me. I hate smart people very much. I am going to go.

x

x

x

There are so many people who have gone before me. Where are they? Even the thought of them is too far away. I have come to the edge of a cliff, searching for something to exchange for a moment of happiness. I did not know that on the other side of the cliff was the end of the world. There was nothing there.

I remember the Buddha. Those who wore bright clothes disappeared from that place without being seen. Their clothes left behind a color. Deception is called Maya. The greatest Maya is the color of bright clothes. My clothes are not

I have not washed yet. My body stinks of pretense. The bag I carried on my shoulders is bulging with troubles. I have to sell the troubles in the bag at the market.

The guy is looking for a place. I don't know what a place is, so I'm not selling it. I'm very tired. The market is very crowded. I'm going far away. Do you think he'll come with me?

x

x

x

She has shopping to do. She has cooking to do. She has school to do. She has school to do. She has meetings to do. She has to sweep the floor. She has to read. She has a schedule to do the things in life. She will not come. Never mind. We need to think again and again that we are going our separate ways. I am tired and sleepy, so I have to find a place to sleep. Until I find that place, whether she comes or not, I will keep going, whether I want to go or not, I will keep going. I don’t think there will be any point in thinking about the futility of life. Do you think that I will gain merit by spreading that point of view? I will carve a white crystal head and add a rotting corpse. I will sprinkle it with a lot of incense, Covered with fragrant flowers, it will be launched into space on a three-stage "Titan" rocket. One thing is certain...

xxx

In that stone head, there are thoughts of burden, intellectual deficiencies, selfishness, deceit, jealousy, ruptured stomachs, and mucus.

Let the mouths that are open and the palms that are covered with hairs be included. I believe that the ultimate and highest purpose of art is to show the greatness of man. Outside, the fragrance of young jasmine flowers wafts. Ten thousand butterflies flutter in the rose garden. Jump out the window and go out. Freshness and vitality are waiting for you. Outside, the sun is golden. The cool fragrance of flowers will surely cool your heart. You will hear the gentle sound of the violin. Young minds are swimming like goldfish in a blue pond. There are no robots here. There are no crows and salamanders. There are no geckos and toads. There are no seals. There are no gibbons. There are no snakes and leopards. There are purple orchids here.

There is a rational mind. There is a courageous truth. There is sacrifice. There is harmony, there is happiness. There is peace. There is a clear wind. There is a spring. Don't be afraid to take risks, don't hold back. You will be welcomed by being a valuable human being. I am a fool.

x

x

x

I don't want anything. I don't want love. Because I already have love. I have a love that no one can stop, no one can object to, no one can take away, no one can claim. That love is March 19th. It is a yellow flower. It is pink.

Soft lips. A pair of brown glasses. A brass lock and a ladder with moss growing on them. I keep the door wide open and close it. Let it come as it pleases. The gaping is for the one who enters. Where is love? Third-rate love poems and romance novels say that love is in the heart. Love is everywhere. Love is nowhere. Love is in a bottle of cough syrup. On a purple shirt. In a glass cabinet with sweets. Under a jackfruit tree. With a hundred bamboo poles.

Inside the house I built. Inside the Yuzana flower. On the teapot with lipstick on it. Inside the brown leather sofa. Love is nowhere. Love is everywhere. I am love. I am not a place. I am a place. The world is dark under a terrifyingly bright light. I hear the cry of the wind.

x

x

x

I am in a cloud nine. There are paintings by Khin Maung Yin, paintings by Aung Soe, purple orchids, and a drinking bowl. The Bodhi Tree and the Veda Path are next to my pillow. The Ulysses is lying open on the floor. I have read “K” and placed it on the table. I have not eaten anything yet. Some people eat potatoes. Some people eat bread. Some people eat cakes. Some people eat fame and power. I forget that I have not eaten anything yet. My cat is sleeping on the clothesline. A man is standing a few steps away. Around his neck is a strange machine with a string that is tied to it. The golden umbrella he wore when he was a king has turned yellow. It is funny. My two favorite poets are Kyi Aye and Nyunt Kyu. If I were to say that they passed the aptitude test that I like, they would not want to take it.

It would be good. It doesn't matter. I say what I like. Do you write poetry with feeling, or with belief, or with words? I don't want to talk to people who are confused. If feeling and understanding are not different in art, I won't answer even if someone comes and talks to me. What does the pen on Van Gogh's yellow chair make you understand? What do Dali's soft-lying clocks mean? What does Manet's scream mean? What does Jasper John's madhouse say? I have no objection to those who want to know trying to understand, but I don't want to know. I'm just a person who wants to feel, so let me be myself. Nephrite's neck is too long. Venus's waist is too round and her belly is too puffy. Mona Lisa's smile is empty and her chest is too flat. Thought is free water from the palm of her hand. Twenty monkeys are singing the great song of Shin Uttama Kyaw. I am going to have a dog.

X XX

Everything is in motion and change, but poetry is eternal in the fragrant white-flowered forest of the cycle. Like blue fireworks bursting from a steel-welded golf club,