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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/6e3ecd627ab63fd480bfe03a54ab70f4.mp3
点击复制Soft drops compose on tempered glass
A score the morning choirs pass;
The maple roof hums slow and deep
A cradle for the minds that keep
Each bead refracts a waiting hue
Turns gray to something clear and new;
The storm performs its pure release
A sermon brief on yielding peace
I trace the rhythm heart to pane
Each pulse restores the inner vein;
For even tears when rightly heard
Translate the wound into a word
When clouds withdraw the edges gleam
The world resumes its lucid dream;
And through that glass of washed design—
I see all grief made crystalline