A wide plane of asters facing against the light,
They twinkle blindly as they flee away to our eyes.
What is beautiful to me
Is just the sky devoid of sunlight.
A plane of great mysteries,
An abyss full of possibilities.
That is, the night.
I see with my naked eye,
Shining dusts afloat the sky.
Beautiful gradients of black and white,
Decorate the void with dying lights.
What is the night,
If not another void
For another time?
If not another dream
In another universal stream?
That is, the night.
I spy bodies from heaven,
Not going down, but across.
They shimmer, bringing forth
Mists of good luck dusts,
Scattering it into the world of rotten dreams,
Of people blind to happiness,
Of children bound to a life of competition.
While it lasts,
It is a safe haven
For dreamers who still cling on
Despite the adversaries.
That is, the night.
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
Poetry Of A Count
PuisiThis book is not suitable for audiences with zero percent sense of imagination and a mental age of two and below. I'm not really a great poet, just a guy who knows how to hold the pen and write the twenty six letters of the alphabet. But I like thin...
