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http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/0040c0bb25dbffe47525ca836060aa8a.mp3
点击复制He counts the apples fallen
not those that still remain;
for what the earth reclaims now
will blossom once again
His hands are maps of seasons
his heart a patient clock;
he talks to roots like children
and trusts the silent rock
A storm once broke his branches
but taught him how to bend;
the harvest isn’t ending
it’s promise that won’t end
At dusk he hums of cycles
while cider fills the air—
“to love is to keep tending
though nothing stays you care ”