- Poetry
Have you ever looked up at the sky
From a dry well?
The stars there
Seems no different from outer world.
Those bright still bright,
And gentle still gentle;
Those who streak through the sky
Are never less gorgeous.
Even the wind did not become dreary,
Just me.
Have you ever looked up at the sky
From a dry well?
There rest the dreams
That failed to wait for an ending;
Those dreams --
Glittering or beautiful or serene
Buried in the past year in stillness.
Still can I admire
But not to lay a finger on
Then take it away from my memory, please --
Thus still can I imagine
Never were they dusted,
Never did they tarnished.
Have you ever looked up at the sky
From a dry well?
And one was coming,
Light and warmth he wearing,
So bright and seemed to penetrated the darkness
And shone gently upon me.
Hold out your hand
Said I -- but I forgot --
It is the well that I am in;
The well
Where joy has died
And love almost run dry.
-- so let him go,
Back to the world he belongs --
In the wind I could never feel
With the bliss I have never known.
Stand up.
Open my eyes.
Reach hands.
Heaviness around so suffocating
Is it a present fate bestowed on me?
I have heard them say --
The best way to treat an irreturnable gift,
Is to accept it, elegantly.
Please allow me
To gaze into every crack
To stroke every brick
And to kiss the wall that fettered me
--if not can I break it.
If my voice's hoarse,
Then let it be hoarse;
As long as I still can utter a cry
Let me sing --
Let my voice clamber up the well
Resound and echo
Before it reaches the sky
--or falls
Let me sing, with all my life, all my spirit
And all my soul
Since I could feel an ache no more.
Have you ever looked up at the sky
From a dry well?