Too much coolness,
Sometimes kills the most fiery spirit.
I do not understand what you want,
But you must speak, or I shall perish.
Don’t let my insolence,
Get in the way of your dreams.
The right to proceed in life
Shall forever render us apart and
My heart trembling under your silent deceit.
Too little control,
Condemns me to the ground of breach.
‘Tis too late to beseech
The priviledge of scholarly forgiveness.
A sore will not go away,
Without the magic of spatial separation.
And I shall endure the rest
With a heart filled with contrition.
John Carson on the Eve of Chinese New year