peter7805
08-06-2009, 03:40 AM
The sun is shining everywhere
the mountains of life,sacrifice and death
keep the balance of life
every day I am used to seeing the sun falling
the fields of flowers, the wind and clouds floating
I listen to the evening bell filled with the homesickness of the earth in my hometown
And the carriages in the wind
the quiet village that I remember in the evening smoke
I like the houses around the waters
the pin-wheel in the children’s hands
the sunflowers in the wet land and the tadpoles in the puddles
those stars are near the fish pond in the night
I am used to drawing in the green grass and the fresh atmosphere of the leaves
looking at the pitch arc of the flying birds oh that is so clear
at that time I remember I wrote my poems beside the quiet waters
the simple sun is shining upon the tile-roofed house covered with the mosses
the golden corn stock, the country of the grasshoppers
and the rain drops under the eaves and the jar in the courtyard
they are all in my memory
in the cold winter
I sat on the fire bed with friends
talking about the soil and the solar terms
and the time when a girl will be married
and all in a while,the spring comes
I see the flowers blossom and the melons fall from the stems
the mountains of life,sacrifice and death
keep the balance of life
every day I am used to seeing the sun falling
the fields of flowers, the wind and clouds floating
I listen to the evening bell filled with the homesickness of the earth in my hometown
And the carriages in the wind
the quiet village that I remember in the evening smoke
I like the houses around the waters
the pin-wheel in the children’s hands
the sunflowers in the wet land and the tadpoles in the puddles
those stars are near the fish pond in the night
I am used to drawing in the green grass and the fresh atmosphere of the leaves
looking at the pitch arc of the flying birds oh that is so clear
at that time I remember I wrote my poems beside the quiet waters
the simple sun is shining upon the tile-roofed house covered with the mosses
the golden corn stock, the country of the grasshoppers
and the rain drops under the eaves and the jar in the courtyard
they are all in my memory
in the cold winter
I sat on the fire bed with friends
talking about the soil and the solar terms
and the time when a girl will be married
and all in a while,the spring comes
I see the flowers blossom and the melons fall from the stems