00:00/00:00
外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/5da37b7eb17d4050493828f414456992.mp3
点击复制He writes on wind not paper
his pen a grain of dust;
his words are for the horizon
his faith for what he must
He hears the fields reciting
their scripture to the rain;
each drop a small correction
each pause a gentle gain
No audience to praise him
no printing press to prove;
his lines are made of motion
his verse of pure remove
Yet every dawn repeats him
each sunset signs his name—
for poetry is living
and living is the flame