Two Poems Min Kyaw   Seasonal A river flowing strongly The wind has been blowing across Daily birds flying above with the wind Some girls and boys on this bank talking how they envy these flights It is the season, raining just right Sensuality from the sky There are bird shooters hiding on the other bank There are also some snipers and some with shotguns The birds are flying to land into the bushes Hearing some of the violent noises This is usual excitement for centuries Some are conservative among modernist But all only polish the guns They see it just as fun a season must provide The painters painting persuasively In the heads never in the hearts Naked birds, their feathers are on the hunters’ hats They drink the river, soon summer will come And they will drink more than ever in the heat Different birds ever arriving in with and going out without feathers Until this season end but many won’t be leaving A poet who sees inside humanity inspiring How stirring the earth and the world of human beings   Two Rooms Hunger is a problem, toilet is another Surrounded by sufferings Here we are in the blue area There is another, a green area Here in the blue exists all suffering There in the green exists just nothing The blue all rules for pains and tears The green no rules, not even self an’ fear Two rooms, a common door open to each other In the blue, Here we are in the blue Into the green, some are going into the green and disappear Suffering with everything yet here be with nothing Suffering with everything here or better be nothing? Suffering can’t get disappear Suffering or get disappear? What not in the green In the blue, big and little holes for us, in the dark One foul step is to down abyss! And just Bad as the rooms’ door invisible Lucky ladders on the wall of void Wisely climb for yourself high