英文诗 Lonely Planet
Lonely PlanetSlow slow death, and silent emptiness,
No trace of sensitivity.
When all sounds went out of the window,
What do we come up with?
When all beautifulness went out of the window,
What are we left over with?
When all betrayals went out of the window,
What do we keep hoping for?
The born shepherd and penniless man,
Stood up from the coffin.
Was he betrayed by God,
Or was God betrayed by him?
For the hope we don't have anymore,
For vagrancy we don't get lost any more,
Where is my poetry spirit?
My poem holds no meaning. My work delivers no result.
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