A weekend in October Homebound am I from a misty city across the Atlantic
A boy stands by the window through it rushing in the afternoon sun the lake, and the fallen leaves Golden fruits drop like tears His eyes shine, so does his forehead
I call at him your name You, however, walk out from another room
Smell something familiar, you say a distant river and a misty morning of long ago
Suddenly I am reminded years have now passed
And you ask me am I still writing poems I say, Yes, I do Because this time in autumn My father is no more
5 comments:
Time
---By July
A weekend in October
Homebound am I
from a misty city
across the Atlantic
A boy stands by the window
through it rushing in the afternoon sun
the lake, and the fallen leaves
Golden fruits drop like tears
His eyes shine, so does his forehead
I call at him your name
You, however, walk out from another room
Smell something familiar, you say
a distant river and a misty morning of long ago
Suddenly I am reminded
years have now passed
And you ask me am I still writing poems
I say, Yes, I do
Because this time in autumn
My father is no more
July,
Greetings to your precious friends here
Hope I don't appear to be intrusive by taking granted to "translate" your poems.
I love them much so I posted as soon I finished it. I just recognize now that it might be improper thing to do...:)
慢牛：我很幸运有你这样的朋友和读者。
慢牛：我很幸运有你这样的朋友和读者。
Post a Comment