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外链地址
http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/bf8f573d57fa24e1ad4128306b4a42d7.mp3
点击复制Steam lifts a small mountain
my thoughts sit at its base
No sermons of faraway—
fragrance widens the room
Leaf veins relax into lakes
anchoring drifted hours
At the bottom of the cup myself:
a ticket not yet punched
Paper window nudged by air
the world makes a tender doorway
I fold unsent words into boats
and let them sail the heat
When light grows audible
even night behaves
I drink the last calm slowly
and leave the rest to peace