Do not worry
Do not panic, pal
Right before the milky way collides
With andromeda galaxy
They will surely return here
In time, to collect all the valuables
Of this unique planet, (quite like old Adam)
Such as Shakespeare’s folios
Picasso or Qi Baishi’s paintings
Each Nobel Prize winner’s eggs or perms
Every American president’s signatures
As well as your great poem or patent
And other worthiest human artifacts
Tangible or otherwise, transporting them
Into another universe, where They will surely
Create and recreate another intelligent race, raising them
Teaching them how to appreciate Earthlings’ fame and power, where
They will surely be created like Jesuses, Allahs or Buddhas
What I am trying to say, Pal, is just rest assured
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You love ‘Y’, not because it’s the first letter
In your family name, but because it’s like
A horn, which the water buffalo in your
Native village uses to fight against injustice
Or, because it’s like a twig, where a crow
Can come down to perch, a cicada can sing
Towards the setting sun as loud as it wants to
More important, in Egyptian hieroglyphics
It stands for a real reed, something you can
Bend into a whistle or flute; in pronouncing it
You can get all the answers you need, besides
You can make it into a heart-felt catapult
And shoot at a snakehead or sparrow, as long
As it is within the range of your boyhood
-******************