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I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
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门 This entry was posted on 2/1/2007 5:51 PM and is filed under Poems. 我是一个过客 无数次从你的门前经过 有意无意 我张望，甚至回头 在错开的门缝间 白色的衣裙 飘曳而过 这一次我决定停下来 轻轻扣响大门 管它开门的是你 还是拿笤帚的 巫婆 CommentsDisplay comments as (Linear | Threaded)
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