Ardent hearts,
doused
in dead-cold desolation.
Blasted hearts,
changed
to massive crags, wind-riven.
At the top of these rocky crags,
an altar, endlessly rebuilt.
And offered there,
offered there:
hardened blood, a single drop;
glittering ice, a single piece;
feathery sunlight, one gold gleam.
The sunlight is pain and sorrow, carved on iron bones,
the cold ice, grief and mourning; it will not melt away.
And
The hardened blood—
the hardened blood—
one night’s legacy: 6/4.
Print HTML
Forward
Facebook
Twitter
Reddit
微博
QQ空间
百度贴吧