Apple Garden
星期二 九月 18, 2007 5:38 pm
Whose garden I dream in late May,
Apple blossoms scent along the way?
A meandering stream leads my steps,
Over branches winds cruise ahead.
I hear birds chiming a soft song,
A lotus nods in the green pond.
I wish I could be closer, let
My shadow silently grow wet.
Yet I ‘ll part, awake from the dream,
her petals shall wither and weep.
Fate's such a mysterious myth,
how I wish to grasp each minute.
When fall comes, who will remember
apples, red, round and big to harvest?
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