Let me take you on a strange journey.

My notebook has remained blank for months
thanks to the light you shower
around me. I have no use
for my pen, which lies
languorously without grief.

Nothing is better than to live
a storyless life that needs
no writing for meaning—
when I am gone, let others say
they lost a happy man,
though no one can tell how happy I was.


Ha Jin, “Missed Time,”  Poetry (July 2000). (via literarymiscellany)

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