My eyes are too wide for the Chinese
I looked past the Golden Mountain with ease.
I should have been made a Hannibal of words
And broken my tusks upon the gates—
Held high laurel conquests with hands
long and white, cold and soft, my Tower of Ivory.
But veins in this land still value
as veins of my blood still value.
So reality: Il faut manger
So I go panning.
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