The Heart Sewn with Thread
In the morning, that valley where the sun rose
The dawn painted a line like a rainbow
It spanned a bridge
Who? And who could cross it?
The scorching sun wielded a blade with thorns
Piercing through the ravines, it sliced across the wheat fields
One acre three sections, instantly became a landscape of deep valleys
Who? And who could endure the river formed by blood?
The giant stones on the tombs lay exposed to the sun, crumbling and weakened
Within the fissures, one could faintly see traces of tears after weeping
The wings of dreams were broken, just before the dawn arrived
Who? And who could light a candle in the darkness, walk in the wind and rain
May, pausing at the foot of June
A roar tearing open the throat
Like verses in a poet's poem, colors on a painter's canvas
It shattered the clouds in the sky
On the ground, that lonely figure
Curling his fingers, helplessly pointing into the wind
Trembling with vigilance
Like pointing at the horizon, yet also like looking at the earth
