<><BR>this life</P>
<>in early April<BR>wind blew on my face, <BR>rustling the peak of the hill.<BR>the colour of the moon<BR>was as tender as the honey.<BR>especially after a hard fight<BR>with the evil person or the white shark,<BR>the spark in toe seam went out,<BR>the body under the moonlight<BR>became as cold as the jade. <BR>i must have been long imprisoned<BR>in my previous generation.<BR>be mindful of the peach flowers<BR>blooming in the deserted valley<BR>and stride forward.<BR>be mindful of the lonely snake <BR>hibernating in its warm hole.<BR>so this life, i rest my head <BR>on the old moss of the west hill,<BR>dreaming like a fool.<BR>this life, the wind blew on my face<BR>and a piece of willow leaf turned green.</P>
<> 2006.4.1</P>