.
.
The footprints
were yours.
I followed them
until they could no longer be seen.
The creek
holds the memories of
Our summer laughter
and the quiet nights under the dim moonlight.
Taking off my shoes
the spring water is cold
and refreshing
Just like eighteen years ago.
A terracotta hue is cast on the mountains
Wildflowers are beckoning in the wind
The night soon falls
Heaven and stars will hear me sing our song.
.
— by F. Björkström 子修
*
《乃足》
足印
乃所留
吾循之
至
溪
藏
昔日笑
夜昏月依稀
吾卸履涉泉
清沁心
似
十八前
彩群山
花影
夜幕落
天且映吾歌
-- 子修
.
* 本站文原，勿抄 *
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