Wednesday, April 1, 2015



We talk together at the same time. We walk together in different parts. Another generation will arrive. So many poppies will rise to smile. Some other generations will remember us. Cheer up, my friends as your ink is becoming a blue-eyed flood! It will remain in any green-eyed bud. Another generation will come to write. Nothing would be ice in a poet's heart. Some scissors may shape any flying kite. No scissors can change our endless light. We have a talk with our time. Who knows whose window doesn't shine? Who knows whose meadow is painted white? Let's drop some mint into our sour wine! Other generations will remember us.

Trumpet, play your music to give a beggar a small crumb! Trumpet, play your music to join my heart's drum! Trumpet, play your music to make my notes rush! A beggar's crumb might have been something lush. No-one might wait for me but this dew in the dusk. Trumpet, play your music to lead a seagull! Trumpet, your sound will never be dull. My pulse is weary but it's my only waltz. Trumpet, play your music with my heart's drum!  This pale breeze has hugged me to lull.

Seagull! Are you a bride or a bird? Did you use to have an embroidered skirt? Don't take any sail for your lover's shirt! Never tell the sea that you were a girl! The sea knows you as a white bird. The sea wouldn't say what you were first. A sail is a wave which hasn't burst. Don't take any sail for your lover's shirt!  Seagull, you will keep the voice you heard.

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