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It mustn't be the first time
the cloud gently breaths in the wind
feeling its colorless life
gradually evolved, magnified
...
I walk by the sea
leaving footprints on the shore
something lingers by gently, I can sense
probably the wave has just hesitated
...
Last night my heart poured out like rain
in the wuthering thought of
the past, and the present
they struck through the sky
...
I boarded the train
from the very east to the west
Lovers holding hands
...
The Best Poem Of Shaw Luo
November
It mustn't be the first time
the cloud gently breaths in the wind
feeling its colorless life
gradually evolved, magnified
before the traces vanish out of sight
It mustn't be the first time
the sun is so hectically occupied
color painting the last maple leaves
before they turn and wave:
Dear, Good-bye! It's almost Christmas time.
Oh it mustn't
it mustn't be the first time
I half close my eyes
reclining on this hillside that we used to hike
hearing your whisper travelling through the shadow of lights
that November always seemed to me
the Norway of the year
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5/9/2024 7:40:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
