Sunday, October 31, 2010

Eight hundred years, who's soul Zhesha

 Eight hundred years ago

do not know who wrote down the ring you and me

staggered that complicated? rub shoulders

who continued the song spectrum of the weeping soul

eight hundred years ago

Hsu turned off my life in that memo paper

off I do not know

evening dusk dye entanglement? figure

mapping the broken strings of soul music

eight hundred years ago

I asked the dazzling rainbow pigeon placed

between the endless clouds

like silent tears

painted depiction of the colorful? like repeatedly asked

who was waiting for

eight hundred years ago

your sword? Executive smile

fluttering sheath? cold

know the rain is cold December snow have

eight hundred years ago

you I found out? What is the root

cool smile forever? off air for a city mundane

eight hundred years ago Best

thousand words end with no solution Quebec

solution next time? Does it also rewards

Past Red? messy life Eight years later



tall Night City Who is my farewell music

weeping soul? like silk wrapped around a

who could not bear the

who pigeon rings Jingzhe

who sank the soul Eight years later



who explore who the sword? between hearty

without thorns? whose body Eight years later



who saw through the Red

not stained the cold December snow

rooting eternal silent Eight years later



Night City

smile again and again? end is heard

you my ring

scattered off the colors of the ancient city after another in the rain Eight years later



between light who is sitting in the temple

mottled city? clip-clop

who startled heart and soul Eight years later

I found out you



had broken the Red? deep Night City

are all waiting for you and me

sticky on the ring of fate that moment????

★ ★ ★

remember that? that first song

☆ ☆

is the end anyway

as I am a sword? your flute sleeping lotus leaf

laugh rendering

the length of Mozhi

as I Zouqin? you dance with lush green bamboo shoot

tip

much less than the

as I drink? you a cappella

window Chrysanthemum less hangover

not break before and after

as I read poetry? you paint Kam Wah Hong

Orchids that around

you say, OK 

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