remnants of what once stood and breathed,
but now are gone into the deep soil.
As spoken by impossibility
for anyone to find one single span on earth
that never has become the funerals of the deads.
Thus the footsteps landed on lands
are reminders of the histories and foretime
in solemnity as we muse by prayers.
And every pavement passed,
together with the colored zephyr of memoirs,
is a pilgrim in solitude.
No comments:
Post a Comment