a return journey, in autumn# Poetry - 海棠诗社
l*y
1 楼
Twilight rain
falls on the train tracks again.
Gravels and dirt banks lie
Fuzzy and grey in the back,
Out of them metallic tin roof tops,
Here and there, shout unbreakably white.
And the lamp bulbs, haloed on their orange head,
light each stations, while we pass
on.
Lined among this relic strip
of industrial wasteland,
the trees and grasses of Autumn
have so much dappled, fresh color.
Saturated in water,
blooming in the gloom.
At this time, the mind
is free to go anywhere,
think anything,
or not
falls on the train tracks again.
Gravels and dirt banks lie
Fuzzy and grey in the back,
Out of them metallic tin roof tops,
Here and there, shout unbreakably white.
And the lamp bulbs, haloed on their orange head,
light each stations, while we pass
on.
Lined among this relic strip
of industrial wasteland,
the trees and grasses of Autumn
have so much dappled, fresh color.
Saturated in water,
blooming in the gloom.
At this time, the mind
is free to go anywhere,
think anything,
or not