慢牛的诗

（也许，宗教的情怀和诗人最为接近？）

The Last Station

Would it mean to depart from the endless cries of one, or many?
During the endless nights you had wondered
pressed by walls of formidable hardness, from either side
Why their merciless vibrations have to penetrate
the tender sorrow buried so deep in a heart, why?

Oh, how autumn leaves freely stamp bright-hued immortality
in the lake, with a reflection of boundless blue
As if nothing has ever changed
lovers still kiss there and marvel their happiness
and a lone soul still finds his consolation
while witnessing another fading year
Surely, it seals the journey of a life birthed out of seeds
One moment of glory, yet everlasting memory
Troubled from within the shell, how could a noble soul find rest
even in the warm and gentle embrace of a rose
withering as it is, beauty it becomes to adore the adoration of
the lost, or the found
Oh, yes, hope means different things for them
Now it turns into another blight winter
extending its reign of ice and snow into a disillusioned heart
With the many stormy nights, hope means a different thing for you
Then you have to choose, it is time to choose,
from the cozy abode of a mansion accessible to your lover only
or a cold motel that would be trampled by strangers, noble or poor
Now, age shouldn’t be the a factor to consider
when eternal vision is to be charted and steered

Train whistle cries for you to leave, a stay was decided
only that it wasn’t by you