Love and Death
星期六 八月 08, 2009 10:17 am
I know them better than you.
With horror, I prefer not to mention.
I watch you debating
whether they are like mirrors –
one reflects fire,
the other, ice.
To me, they both are doors,
irreversible when entering:
one, sweet or bitter by unpredicted revolving,
the other, ending with a harsh and sudden swing.
Most of the time, they are in disguise,
beckoning us with a horse-driven carriage,
or a shallow river.
We ride on ‘til the hidden cliff,
we dive in to the bleeding pain.
At the end, we look back,
our past falls in silence.