When blood boils, it explodes.
When blood freezes, it ices over.
Hushed and anchored
without deliberation.
Our Burmese derive from Shakya
insulated.
The sight of blood agitates,
cools to extreme fear.
Be brave and be afraid.
 
Young heart
a moment brave
close to a hay fire
opportunistically following grandfather.
The chase is constant
perhaps like paradise or a wish
perhaps without knowing
on a trip without a path.
The cow eats plums
obscured.
This is our Burmese people.