|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Hing Ling | profile | guestbook | all galleries | recent | tree view | thumbnails |
The meaning of poem
If you'd suddenly ask
Why I'd write poems
Why wouldn't I
Do something else more practical?
Then I wouldn't know
How to answer your question
Like a goldsmith, working day and night
Just to stretch my sorrow into
Gold jewels, thin as a dragonfly's wings
I wonder, as I
Transform my grief, into
Shiny and smooth words
Would you think
it still is beautiful?
[ Memory ] |
[ Beijing ] |
[ Precious Gems ] |
[ Humbly be ] |
[ Caprice ] |
[ Qui ti aspettero ] |
[ With eyes slightly closed ] |
[ Ce soir ] |
[ My Quests ] |
[ Garden in the rain ] |
[ The inner reality ] |
[ Secret Garden ] |
[ My houseman year ] |
[ Heartfelt Christmas ] |
[ Memoir ] |
[ Flower ] |
[ Taste (of salt) ] |
[ Impulse ] |
[ Haven ] |
[ Atmosphere ] |
[ weddings ] |
[ SnSh ] |
[ Karen's bday dindin ] |
[ Les meow meows ] |
[ B's bday ] |