As I've heard from worlds apart, Temples long gone, relics beyond touch. When an age, By footsteps of ancient titans Shapes the landscape As what our forefathers admired. And I wish, with delicate sweeps, What I may retrieve From cobwebs and dust, anything! With reflections that marks the path, now Deserted And forgotten, in a long, undisturbed Sleep, So that dawn with her rose red fingers never reach its tomb Where finely grained ash awaits the breezing sweep Which might never whisper in their ears. But now I've entered, this Grave, this Mausoleum, If not buried under scorching sand. Call it hunger, or fetish, or illness, In which explorers never cease its flame, marching on For every past, every War and siege, every Drop of life's essence Setting fire upon dry wood that flares, spraying sparks Over other piles of fuel, While the disturber of peace, But scratches its ash And to harvest what glory Everlast. So I try to seek: From where emerges the next generation Of Zeus, as with his followers, While the current gods be Titanized, Cycled, fated, woven notebook, Whatever end that has not changed, Or already determined. But hopefully, at least Not a reverse of time, For only I seek the past To take part in a play That follows the same classical script Without a line To speak. 台大法律系圖書管地下室舊書區 2007/9/25 (最近功力深厚的板友越來越多了! 也讓我獲益良多!) -- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Let not a drop of desire Disturb the heart in ripples ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ --

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