Words blow
with the blast
Ink drops as oil to the flame
and burn the fire's light
Waved in the leaden air
the majesty of accuracy
scald the ears waxed with injustice
Literacy and liberty
are for all longing eyes
A witness to the silences—
to misfortunes ignored
to blessings need to be heard
to weak breath
trying to make sense of its existence-
the sonar in the deepest sea of truth
hears silences louder than speeches
Also, he believes in voices
voices stronger than power
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Ripened by night
the profound sea,
as a huge archaic mirror
embracing a pasture for reflected star
Beneath the stage of luminous enthusiasm,
wavelessly rising your meditation,
which unrequitedly falling in love
with the moonbeam
Withering somber luna,
as the faint Cupid
shooting an arrow of ice
into an auroral mirage
with shining rosiness
Ought to feel out eternity
the lily wings, finally
turned out to be the feeble oar
knocking the ebb rootlessly
Affection
inexhaustible braveness and endless scrupulousness
But what are these amongst us? -
The tacit contract
between sunrise and seaside;
also the blurry distance
between darkness and dreamland
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
Considering the tomatoes
Sunshine turns the grapes to wine
We have 27 tomatoes standing in a line
Waiting to be burnt and blushing to the sun
But too much sunshine makes me taste too sweet
But if I jump now I will lose my green feet
You have got to be mature enough to be squeezed
To juicy sour and loosely sweet
For I am a tomato,
A tomato thinking about life
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:28 PM UTC
Bathed in sunshine,
thy tint,
so polychrome, so fragile,
rode on the wind.
No perpetual apex,
only the awing moment.
Holding just a slender assurance,
you explore the ends of heavens;
yet only a trace of lingering,
exceeds the lifetime liberties.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
Pure snow,
which I have awaited all through winter
had resigned itself to mildness.
when the consistency of masked face
endue the only smile
with engraving in persistence
In undecipherable season,
and for the misunderstood person;
still,
I nurse my wistfulness
of being the last drop of innocence;
if there is an hourglass
holds your adolescence
The enshrinement
in the Trevi Fountain of my heart
is the ripple that you dimpled,
like the growing annual ring,
and also the invariable finger print.
写在早春
我等了一冬的雪
让位于温暖；
是一贯的面无表情
让一笑成为烙印
读不透的季节
读不透的人
我愿做你年华沙漏中
最后一颗天真
我的许愿池
还珍藏着你种下的涟漪
像增长的年轮
像永恒的指纹
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
The uneven sentimental of adolescence,
as the spring leaf
with tender sawtooth;
Will you please,
let poetry take place of numbers
to reckon our memories?
When sunset bestows
that rearward glance
with golden sight;
melting my eyes
is the reflux
of our youth.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
the distant eaves
irritate the groundline;
which becomes a hilly horizon
in twilight
A glance of warm colors:
is it the glory of dawn
or an afterlight?
Who knows, and no real difference;
the moonbeam will eventually
bring peace, along with loneliness
to drifting lives.
The mother tongue has reduces to silence
and the hometown as remote as paradise.
I am here, hair in wind
tells the destination of clouds.
I believe in freedom, in any variety;
as many as the ways of being nothing,
tenderly.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC