My heart has turned into a stone
some rocks hit against and break
to flow in the river
but still desire to see the seedling sprouting
Hope to hear melodious songs from birds
and dreams of fragrance from the flowers
Someone has plunged his sword
into intestine of the wasteland Earth
in these threatening and roaring clouds,
the desire for showering compassion is still alive.
Hope from the heartless earth
to grow passionate sensitivity is still active.
Appeal to the dead sky
to rain the life-force yet remains...
There is no place for platonic love now
What is Love? But just a deal
an equation in Mathematics
or a computer program
flowing chemicals of a few organic compounds
In spread of the mud,
Hope to lotus blossom