SUMMER

The most be loved and lively season once,

be trapped in the cage without an end.

Across the river to appalling dist'nce,

indulge the midnight turns again be failed.

"I found a piece of snow and buried it

without any marks, I would forget at last",

is just a self-deceiving lie, with phot'

in mem'ry, and the party if everlast.

They lift me over black earth, thousands of

miles, to the ramp that never wants an end.

Ther' are raindrops that roll and fall on leave

reflecting I, dare not to speak nor look.

Love thee is fountain always in the season;

love thee is two stars meeting for oath' reason.

FALL

The season of harvest rarely means seperation.

The ray of sun on white mount and black wate',

however, runs always faster than on Tai Mountain,

shining the railway, sky, and crowed of move'.

What an an meets, not always met by else.

Their ancestors spent springs and autumns, send

them to the twenty-first ringed loop, with earth,

uncountably, orbit'd the sun around, around.

what AN/ ant MEETs/, not AL/way MET/ by ELse/.

And bathed the seemingly eve'lasting warmth,

a planey may have neve' a chance to meet

the Star. How lucky they are, that ruins

is far from get together in concept.

And fortune if the skyline rolling forth,

with blue and white, from yellow to blackness.

WINTER

Outside palm-sized window is rain with chill;

under the sky is faintly shining light.

The chilling air run with the brisk wind; will

the throbbing square send off the bad moods first.

Decide to stay from sound and fury, lumber

to group, rest under wind sent by cooler;

and in the vast seemingly bare desert, drillers

unknown to us and chance to be amber.

One rotates the other, foreshadowing

the day to celebrate that hasn's yet gone extince.

Face fell together, caring not, thinking

with what kind of love this winter to spend.

Waiting for us to cross is snow and snow,

and life after life the world yet to know.

SPRING

The farewull bell rings seasons' beginning;

the waking beings sings new life unchaging.

Yet God must rether call it an ending,

even flowers raise head in speing breeze, bathing.

HE loves to deliver fatal to us;

puts nothing into eyes, when all beings lift.

Omnipotent, yet poertless, split heats,

to summer's edge, and winter attached.

he can only watch clouds meet and depart.

What rushed in them is a plane heading south.

Endless black earth, meet no wind wrapped in mount;

hands long to meet left only wait to choose.

Wait gently is the departure of spring,

without subject to seasons is heart to cling.