Unawakened (Explanatory Poetry)
The south wind began to blow into the window panes, and I dared not wake from my dream.
Masks replicated countless overlapping faces, creating a sense of old times.
I dare not assert whether various metaphors are gradually becoming clear;
Clouds, too, were shielding the sun.
Blocks of sunlight lay on the floor;
Returning to a more carefree childhood is a cruel thing.
I don't know if the beautiful butterflies will use their wings of South America to stir up storms and ruin some days.
I cannot be sure when the rain of lightning will come.
The street outside was quiet. People were peering into it with secrecy;
Don't disturb, birds shaking the spring on the branches;
It was as if life had stopped here, like a bee frozen in amber;
……
If I wake, what torrential tears will greet the arrival.
