你能吹起一朵自由的蒲公英让她飘过喷涌的火山口;
或用敞开的心怀接下瀑布永远的幸存与谦恭,她那坠落的激昂?
为理解生存的意义我们渴望同蜂群一起飞去,
那一刻便停息在花蕾深处,靠离奇的机灵领会更新的蜜语,
链接起你知道还不能明确表达的思绪。
或许我们在倒下的雷锋塔里能捡起古人已残破的叹息。
一如野炊的篝火燃起的总是明天的黎明,她从不想熄灭。
而我或许能找到那个不相知的路人,那瞳孔里奔跑的雨中人影,
一個強悍傳承的血統,是我真有过的遗忘,如今猛然想起。
在漆黑的午夜,看得见树根托起那些闪光的灵魂,
让他们又触摸到了如此异样的天空,沉默在颤抖。
骰子滾動了.
The dice is cast:
Can you blow off a dandelion in a sea of air and see her drifting
Over a mouth of volcano gushing ?
Or open your heart to get the waterfall’s survival and humility
Within ageless-jumping emotion?
Are we eager to fly with a swarm of bee perching on each center of flowers? With a crazy shrewdness talk to the wit-filled cried pollen
That will link up with some knowing thoughts clearly-unspoken.
Or can we pick up the broken-signs left from the ancient of ours
Attached in dust with the fallen-tower Lei-Fen?
As coaxing a bonfire to greet the tomorrow’s dawn that never off our sights
Oh would I find the strange passer-by, a running-shape
Reflecting in his pupils beneath the rainy-cloud
That in one wild strain expressed is more lost to me
Than anyone else in the world;
Nowadays I recall the vivid image picture:
At the midnight blues can see the roots of trees boost up those bright souls
Let them touch the solid sky silent-trembled.
The dice is cast.