2005-02-17 01:07:06尚未設定
不安的四季Disquieting Seasons冬
構築·不安的季節·冬
最後一個夕陽沒有揮手，昨夜篩落了我的全部期盼，光也隨之彌散。縱有一千隻手，你怎能從大海中撈起星光的水珠？於是，儘管有月色，沉悶的味道也開始從窗玻璃的四角匍匐而行，向中心地帶逼近。
你收攏起羽翼，蜷曲在我的臂彎。蓋著雪花被的我不由自主，溫柔地堅挺了一夜。大海舖著白色的月光。所以我能感到一座小教堂内那惟一的祈禱者額角上跳動著冰淩的折光，而外面雪花纖細的圖案正在北風中腫脹。很快，這一切將偏離我們的視網膜，脫離我們的想象。
此刻，我看見塔尖上一只烏鴉翹起尾巴，一泡白色糞便抛落成幾朵黑色的小花。如果你聽到它嘶啞的叫聲，即便我們不懂它預言什麽，即便我在出神，你也要給我一個微笑。因爲我們再次從親吻中睜眼，誰都不能確定我們的肉身會跌落進哪一個空間。
Constructs·Disquieting Seasons·Winter
The last sun did not wave a farewell, and as the night sieved away all my hope and want, light also dissolved. Even if you had a thousand hands, can you pick up the drops of starlight scattered in the sea? Thus, in spite of the moonlight, the smell of stagnancy began creeping toward the centre of the windowpane.
Under the quilt of snow, I am tenderly hard for a whole night, in spite of myself, as you coil in my arms, all your wings furled. The ocean is covered with white moonlight. Therefore, I can feel the reflected colors of the icicle cone that dance on the temple of the only person at pray. Outside the high window, the delicate patterns of snowflakes are swelling in the north wind. Soon, all this will creep out of the dome of our retina and imagination.
At this very moment, I see a crow on the spire is cocking its tail and litter a few tiny black flowers on the snow. If you can hear its raucous calls, no matter what it might convey, you shall give me a smile even if I am in a trance and not looking at you. For when we open eyes from our kiss, no one will tell us which space our reincarnation will be.
最後一個夕陽沒有揮手，昨夜篩落了我的全部期盼，光也隨之彌散。縱有一千隻手，你怎能從大海中撈起星光的水珠？於是，儘管有月色，沉悶的味道也開始從窗玻璃的四角匍匐而行，向中心地帶逼近。
你收攏起羽翼，蜷曲在我的臂彎。蓋著雪花被的我不由自主，溫柔地堅挺了一夜。大海舖著白色的月光。所以我能感到一座小教堂内那惟一的祈禱者額角上跳動著冰淩的折光，而外面雪花纖細的圖案正在北風中腫脹。很快，這一切將偏離我們的視網膜，脫離我們的想象。
此刻，我看見塔尖上一只烏鴉翹起尾巴，一泡白色糞便抛落成幾朵黑色的小花。如果你聽到它嘶啞的叫聲，即便我們不懂它預言什麽，即便我在出神，你也要給我一個微笑。因爲我們再次從親吻中睜眼，誰都不能確定我們的肉身會跌落進哪一個空間。
Constructs·Disquieting Seasons·Winter
The last sun did not wave a farewell, and as the night sieved away all my hope and want, light also dissolved. Even if you had a thousand hands, can you pick up the drops of starlight scattered in the sea? Thus, in spite of the moonlight, the smell of stagnancy began creeping toward the centre of the windowpane.
Under the quilt of snow, I am tenderly hard for a whole night, in spite of myself, as you coil in my arms, all your wings furled. The ocean is covered with white moonlight. Therefore, I can feel the reflected colors of the icicle cone that dance on the temple of the only person at pray. Outside the high window, the delicate patterns of snowflakes are swelling in the north wind. Soon, all this will creep out of the dome of our retina and imagination.
At this very moment, I see a crow on the spire is cocking its tail and litter a few tiny black flowers on the snow. If you can hear its raucous calls, no matter what it might convey, you shall give me a smile even if I am in a trance and not looking at you. For when we open eyes from our kiss, no one will tell us which space our reincarnation will be.