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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/45cc4e4e9d13a2146b8ef18e54013cb5.mp3
点击复制The harbor wears its memory
of sails and whispered trade;
each rope a line of history
each tide a serenade
I walk where ancestors linger
their footfalls soft but near;
the gulls translate their laughter
the wind becomes their cheer
The past is not behind me
it breathes in present air;
each stone retells forgiveness
each echo learns to care
By night the docks grow silver
the ships inhale the stars—
and every soul that wanders
remembers who they are
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