小小螢火兒,在綠樹林裡,在黑沉沉暮色裡,
你多麼快樂地展開你的翅膀,你在歡樂中傾注了你的心.
你不是太陽,你不是月亮,難道你的光輝亮麗就少了幾分?
你完成了你的一生,你點亮了你自己的燈;你所有的都是你自己的,
你對誰也不負債蒙恩;你僅僅服從了你內在的力量.問心無愧
你衝破了黑暗的束縛,你雖微小,但又是偉大,因為宇宙間一切光芒,都是你的親人
Spring scatters the petals of flowers that are not for the fruits of future, but for the moment's whim.
Joy freed from the bond of earth's slumber rushes into numberless leaves, and dances in the air for a day.
Mind's underground moths grow filmy wings and take a farewell flight in the sunset sky.
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
My thoughts, like spark, ride on winged surprises, carrying a single laughter.
The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow which yet in never can grasp.
Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.
Days are colored bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless night.
April, like a child, writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers, wipes them away and forgets.
Mind starts up at some flash on the flow of its thoughts like a brook at sudden liquid note of its own that is never repeated.
The departing night's one kiss on the closed eyes of morning glows in the star of dawn.
Maiden, thy beauty is like a fruit which is yet to mature, tense with an unyielding secret.
Sorrow that has lost its memory is like the dumb dark hours that have no bird songs but only the cricket's chirp.
Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand with a grip that kills it. Wishing to hearten a timid lamp great night lights all her stars.
The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her, the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.
Jewel-like immortal does not boast of its length of years but of the scintillating point of its moment.
The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.
縱橫淚水,淚光閃閃......我真的不會再把它們翻譯出來。生嚼活吞,原汁原味好像萬事萬物最終都會回歸原來相貌。喜歡也罷,悲傷也罷,寂滅為樂!!