.

.

The footprints

were yours.

I followed them

until they could no longer be seen.

The creek

holds the memories of

Our summer laughter

and the quiet nights under the dim moonlight.

Taking off my shoes

the spring water is cold

and refreshing

Just like eighteen years ago.

A terracotta hue is cast on the mountains

Wildflowers are beckoning in the wind

The night soon falls

Heaven and stars will hear me sing our song.

.

— by F. Björkström 雲子修

*

《乃爾足跡》

足印

乃爾所留

吾循之

至蹤跡見滅

溪

藏

昔日歡笑

靜夜昏月依稀

吾卸履涉泉

清涼沁心

似

十八載前

彩暉隴群山

花影隨風搖

夜幕漸落

天籟且映吾歌

-- 雲子修

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