Something crystal trickled down unconsciously
The clock is clicking away the seconds relentlessly
There seems a lump in my throat
The mooncakes on the desk must be delicious
But not appetizing at all
Why is the screen afront shrouding in such a blurred glistening hazy?
The night… …
Is now so soothing outside
While so chaotic within
The moon… …
Is now gleaming, tranquilizing high over the sky
While bleeding, groaning in my heart
Why am I still languishing in that ever-exiting nauseous torture of twinge ?
Something have already slipped into oblivion long ago
While others remain fresh in the memory
Which lingered, tussled and tortured… …
While I retreated, failed and ultimately surrendered… …
For under whose aggressive ambition
I’ve been devoured and crashed… …
There is a kind of life
Which I may be still seeking for
If I didn’t before, I do now
For there are always something I can never make sense of
Living a life that never stops making me feel like an outsider,
Feeling so complete, meanwhile so empty
That kind of life for me is just the barren and exhausted soil
Which yields nothing even for endless hours of toil
Or a pool of stagnant water eager to rush through its banks and waiting for a downpour which never comes
And also a kaleidoscope of maze
The deeper I penetrate, the more dazzling I feel
This should be a night of joys and celebrations
But not for me, neither for the moon
Which must be overwhelmingly busy
The prayers of the families.
The oaths of the lovers,
The laughters of the children,
As well as the whispers of the nocturnal species
And the outpouring of the lovers.
Those are what he is bearing now
However, there always comes a time
When we must expose our weakness,
When our secrets can no longer remain private,
When our solitude can no longer be denied,
When our pain can no longer be ignored;
Like the moon we are all
But you know what?
The shining fullness of the moon tonight
Is nothing more than an inflamed wound of the starry sky;
The passing brightness is merely a vulgar flame
Amid the cool radiance of the stars
The luminous gloom invariably goes hand in hand with the gloomy luminary
Every story has an ending, but in life,
Every ending is a new beginning
Since there is neither an actual beginning, nor a definite end
Let’s start with “forever” !