我写诗给它们：They came to America with history on their lips

and US green card gripped like lifelines --

following the footsteps of killers

while cursing the killers' gohosts,

as though moral clarity

were something earned on arrival.

With great ceremony they condemn

"the barbaric Europeans of centuries past,"

even as they settle quite warmly

into homes built on the bones

of those same centuries.

Money-apprently-

is the purest form of philosophy.

They call themselves "civilized,"

the shadowes still drift across history textbooks

And in the modern era-

the one with electricity, tractors, and radio towers-

millions starved or vanished

under the same red banner

they now defend with curated notalgia.

But this, they insist,

is a "complex chapter"

best left politely unmentioned

at dinner parties abroad.

Yet with impeccable confidence

they sermonize about morality,

humanity,

civilization -

as if irony were a foreign language

no one had taught them.

Curious, isn't it?

To cross the ocean

only to plant yourself on another people's grave

and still manage to brag

about the superiority of your civilization.

But contradctions, like suitcases,

are easiest to carry when packed lightly -

especially when your American dream

comes with good education,

Money and freedom

indipendence and equality

you'd never give up 

for any motherland under the sun.

they are perfect "夹头" -

loud patriots online,

silent immigrants in life;

love stored behind a screen,

wealth and children overseas,

giving nothing but empty slogans.

"Loving" there,

living here,

and loyal --

above all --

to the dollar.