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http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/48ea2e113503f280f779b928257c6a1f.mp3
点击复制The stalls exhale their sweetness
bread cools on twilight air;
a violin begins it—
the city learns to care
Fishmongers fold their laughter
in buckets lined with dreams;
old couples count their memories
in autumn’s tangerine gleams
I taste a cup of stories
from hands that smell of rye;
the world is built of gestures
too ordinary to die
When lanterns close their eyelids
and cobblestones hum low—
we leave behind our footsteps
like prayers that softly glow