影云2022-08-27 18:19:48
 
The Withered Rose


In my hand is the most colorful:
Magenta, pink, yellow, golden, brown, and
Many other unnamed
Out of this once scarlet body

All the colors
Now are weaving together
Upon the calling of Death: a journey
Is not simplified by Simplicity. 

I put her down on the ground. 
No vases (my hand is simply another one) can be open enough
To hold her beauty and something called
Life and Death.


 
 
07/17/2006

 

 


更多我的博客文章>>>

 

 

未完的歌2022-08-28 14:44:23
此诗配此照,很有意境。来听首通俗歌曲《掌心花》
影云2022-08-28 17:42:10
挺好的。谢谢未班的分享。