Before someone like Li Po comes,
even if it happens only once,
only once in a thousand years,
countless mountains and lives
remain prosaic and countless
till one becomes at last
a Nine Flower Mountain
under its own fitting name
made by a poet to clasp
its spirit in that sound.
Surely, the point of a poem
is to find a Nine Flower
Mountain among the many,
but someone nine-flower too.
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