Funny thing, I was cleaning up my pile of books on my bed stand, and found a volume of poetry by Ezra Pound. I opened the book and read the following poem at random:
N.Y. by Ezra Pound
MY CITY, my beloved, my white!
Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me!
Now do I know that I am mad,
For here are a million people surly with traffic;
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed.
And I will breathe into thee a soul,
And thou shalt live for ever.
I think the the last six lines of the poem could be written by a Wuxi Expat about Wuxi, the city.
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