Sunrise and sunset, By a pinch of channeled spark, Shadows of passing spirits, Unstoppable zeal With some pause for care and comfort. A land of milk and honey, What a simple world That has been dreamed by many. Let me explain: Never can this apartment Hang from wind-rocking twigs, The miracle fruit from a withered tree, Packed and sealed for the privileged to see. What is it like? While the sun shines through the day, Nibbling on chips with crispy gleams. But not to worry, at least, A plenty to be Satisfactory, May I might hold an auction For those wishing aplenty? I need not commercialize a land of purity, Sacred ground indeed, where Friendly glances can be as caring For us, as many. It's a bit short For me to claim its wrongs, That the same essence from sun and soil Be replicated And enjoyed, though benevolence Needs not my worship and praise. Never had I heard any That was hung on a wind-rocking tree Not to recall that a spear was hidden And nowhere can it be seen. But only by this Can I roam free without worry In this private garden of the privileged, As long as I play my part, Generosity, Whatever it demands, Is never to me a hard goal to meet. Nevertheless, Life goes on As ever and ever. I sip my share of the string of lifeblood, On it Tiny glimpse with marks and number, And not to forget a glass of spring, Not for rent, but permanent living, To breathe is but, simply, monthly salary While I serve its name For goods beyond my world to dream. (赠朋友生日诗一首) 2007/10/21 -- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Let not a drop of desire Disturb the heart in ripples ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ --

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