The Sea
esoror/rorose
The rabbi has a heart of the sea.
No one can measure the weeds of his thought;
No one can anticipate the blow of his mind.
Sometimes he drowns me in the cold thunder;
Sometimes he brings me praise of flower.
What can be the analysis of this?
Nothing but just mist.
For the pearls of his eyes
Operate the loom of the night
And weave his name
On the cloth of my dream.
He teaches me
How to be tangled when
I try to untie this scene.
How can I leave this sea-changed mist?
Just follow the tread he gives.
14 Dec 2001
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滿高興今年有作品了^^
好久沒有這種想要寫的感覺了
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※ 編輯: esoror 來自: 140.115.201.29 (12/14 10:29)