The years of innocence are far away!
We run in haste at the tip of Time's spear,
That drives our footsepts in worry and fear,
And blinds our mind, that doth our heart betray.
Now no more sweet is the rain of Taipei,
Neither the sound of wind freshing to hear;
The sour drops with dull gusts collude so dear,
Weting worms' baudy bed of rotten clay.
See how people entwine like worms in dirt!
'Tis outdated to woo by writing sonnet,
That doth harbor something heartfelt to say,
And right on tide is all lecherous flirt.
So I lament over Truth's dim sunset;
Aspiring good old days, I weep to pray.
--
Where words fail, music speaks.
--
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※ 編輯: amadeus1223 來自: 114.45.212.81 (12/02 02:16)