the abundant grains wait the harvester to <br />ripe the fallen staff, as the rushing wind hurdle the <br />muddy field of hay; waiting the bird to pick and <br />pickle <br /> <br />abode the direction of the Siberian chilled moist <br />the wishing bell started to tell, the snow ball lasted <br />for a year and the glacier of Ireland blasted for a call <br /> <br />nothing has change only for a sun to seat it down, <br />flagging the window of the shaping hand, where <br />everybody is dancing and rejoicing the coming final <br />day, certainly it will come <br /> <br />let the abode of the heart, is the number one, for <br />only the heart will come to window the shadow of the <br />battle field of today, neither be another day will shine; <br />the raging sea vote to cliff the stone and the bird <br />above the ocean <br /> <br />follow each dropp of the rain surely, it pass bye; the <br />narrow deep blue sea as it conquer the unsinkable <br />wide ocean of victory......<br /><br />Antonio Liao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perfume-of-the-heart/
