Reverently I remember my past The road under the sunset shine Alone, those grey bricks The struggling soul Concealed by the smoothness of marble tiles. In the dark nights, further Buried questions Unanswered. Wails echoing in the darkness Pain dyed the stars in the sky.
Merely I am sad, sometimes The stars in the night sky Accidentally, in my eyes. Their light seems to be the afterglow From my sadness My sadness in the old days. --- My grey wall, Has anyone ever leaned on you and cried; Was a friend by his side, at that time? --- Stones do not leave too many traces, But it was a lonely road. The person right next to some glass shard, Got comfort from the label on the glass bottle.
A road traveled by one alone, Knew what’s inside the person. It’s just a pity that the road can’t speak, He didn’t get an answer from it. --- I flash with shame that lamps are the stars of the ancients. I’d rather just look at one, Then move my gaze to the darkness next to it. O man behind the lamp, Do you want to cry in front of me? Or just like me, Dodge the light. Glass and steel plates, Frightening me, They also blocked my crying breathing. The ancients, weren’t lucky to indulge them, They only have truly painful nights. But I should have been, Rushing forward and shouting. Look at the person in front, See whether he is crying. --- I want you to know all my life. We lean together, Failed to avoid mud on the railing, But hum along with the phone’s speaker. And then while looking at the clouds in the sky, I listen to your story. --- The glass in the shopping mall fails to catch my gaze, It falls into the warm-colored ceramic tiles on the ground. “A raindrop, penetrates the air, And the rain casts into the ground.” I shout at the tile, I don’t even make a sound. But the stone shouldn’t be a stone, Silent and unmoved. Whether it goes in the soil, I will cry out to it. --- I stole that child away, Asked where he wished to be. After a brief answer, He waved at me, Describing how my form lay between his fingers. --- Raise your arm, And you can see your flesh. Look at the sun through the edges of your fingers, It’s warm-colored light. Pinch yourself, It hurts, So you shout to the person in front of you— Look, look! Look at me, I am looking into your eyes. Then bow your head, Hold onto their arm, Facing away from the wind and sand, Cowering together in the corner. --- They can’t leave, So, they start to feel the dust around them. The texture of the plywood under the broken edges of the table, Or tear the corrugated cardboard one by one. Why not choose a pen without a refill? In case, in times of sadness, Watch the ink flow where you can’t touch. Are the lights in the hallway white or warm white?
“Look! Look at the broken tiles!” —They told me, That’s a freedom. --- In the center of the judging people, there is a lake under a blizzard. In the middle of the water is a small protruding rock, supporting a wooden house larger than this land. He lies on me, and I lie on the wood. There is no safer place. His breathing, which he only allows me to hear, resonates through the sky. --- I was born a pig, Like a frog in warm water. O potato, potato! I gained pound after pound. The sun shone on my bristles. One day, I finally die. Fortunately, I die a pig. I become fat and protein, Live forever.