The Death Of Our Poetry Garden
Roaming my youth with another man
Then now I come back in the dusk
Slowly open the sombrous door of our love garden
Only falling leaves on the ground
Where are you now? I call your name in silence.
No guitar sound…no perfume of honeysuckle …no bird singing
I fall on my knees…weep hopelessly
R.I.P…that cold stone marked your name
“Gone with lust…
Chased with vanity dream
You left my soul die alone here
Our love was buried under this old tree
Together with the death of poetry world”.
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