Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Taste of the Sun

When the air was cool and moist,
And everyone was in sound sleep,
I was already in somewhere else,
Somewhere up, up on hill.

While waiting, I threw myself
into a dilemma on a foreign hill:
If I could keep the night,
Would I let the day to take it all away?

In the darkest hour,
We, are equal, because
Hardly can see each other's color.

Then I stopped and gazed beyond.
That infantile brightness shines through
the passage to my inner self,
Feeds my tongue with warm sweetness.

Image from http://footage.shutterstock.com/clip-574111-stock-footage-man-touches-his-face-against-the-sun.html

Sunday, February 24, 2013