peter7805
06-22-2010, 10:36 PM
The door post
A tree was cut down to make a door post. And when spring comes ,the new branches grow on it amazingly .
Walk through the door of life and death
I breed the days of youth full of green
And the story is always beautiful
Together with all of my pains
I kissed the knife and ax affectionately
Hug the fright of death unwillingly
And being a ridgepole or a beam
Was left to the earth,and to the roots ,a dream
The branches swing in the smoke
away to be an evening cloud it floats
which hangs in the sky of northwest
Filled with the color of blood
And pieces to the tears of the night
Oh in the moon
There is someone out
Cutting the trees once more
A tree was cut down to make a door post. And when spring comes ,the new branches grow on it amazingly .
Walk through the door of life and death
I breed the days of youth full of green
And the story is always beautiful
Together with all of my pains
I kissed the knife and ax affectionately
Hug the fright of death unwillingly
And being a ridgepole or a beam
Was left to the earth,and to the roots ,a dream
The branches swing in the smoke
away to be an evening cloud it floats
which hangs in the sky of northwest
Filled with the color of blood
And pieces to the tears of the night
Oh in the moon
There is someone out
Cutting the trees once more