The house was built
The stove with my parents and familiar songs upon.
I shall remember the melodies, till
All the memories begone,
Of which the crimson roses bloom real;
Of which the isolated people grow strong.
On the top of a grassy hill,
The path of time stretches along
Not to the golden city I was born of guilt,
but the place I belong.
--------------------
uh~~uh!
not a good poem anyway..:P
hope to get some suggestions...^____________^
thx...
--
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
《Ode On Solitude》
--
※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc)
◆ From: 61.228.121.13