The Beauty In A Thousand Years Poem by Eleven Lin

In the moonlit night, flowers and maple trees are sleepless.
Behind the curtains speads the sadness.
In the starry night, dancing sleeves and breeze are speechless.
Under the eaves flow the memories.
The moondust and starlight are streaming through my fingertips,
The scene is as what it was in the past.

Who slept in the wind for a thousand year,
Writing down the immortal poems?
The sound of flute sounds sweet and clear,
Floating high in the deep clouds.
The beauty stiil sits in the setting sun.
Unconciously, a thousand years have passed.