"Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs on hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate—he has little success in this—but with the other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different (and more) things than do the others; after all, dead as he is in his own lifetime, he is the real survivor. This assumes that he does not need both hands, or more hands than he has, in his struggle against despair."--Kafka



Tuesday, March 17, 2009

我看著妳一閃閃的不見 是微風吹進我屏息的眼



慢慢掉下來 滿天的棉絮飄在我倆中間
我看著妳一閃閃的不見 是微風吹進我屏息的眼

慢慢走過來 移動的樹都轉到我的背面
將我遺忘那無聲的夏天 要回憶起我必須再一遍

光線的塵埃 急促的舞動關於妳的形容
若下起雨它變成了彩虹 若我哭泣它飛上了天空

有時候我會想起妳 想起妳我心顫抖不已
妳現在好嗎 沒有我好嗎 還是妳已經有了另一個家

有時候我想忘了妳 那必須將我自己一起抽離
沒有痕跡的腳步 我才會變孤獨

將妳掛起來 妳是我心中那溫柔的弧線
是陽光穿透水滴的美豔 我堅信不是偶然的相逢 七色 彩虹

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