湖(氵父)的月亮当我写下月亮,有如钢琴家在夜间的烛光下。俯身在黑色的乐谱架上。此刻,他写下的不仅是爱情。不仅是往昔的天真,而且是梦幻,是泪痕满面的命运与绝唱。湖(氵父)的月亮爬上来,像白色的奶酪,从我的嘴边滴落。在一座无名小寺,抑或是千年古刹,我选择与禅师对坐。民歌和杨梅,前尘与往事,都带着 The Moon of the Lake (Patricia) When I write down the moon, like a pianist under candlelight at night. Leaned over the black music stand. At the moment, he wrote not only love. Not only the naive, but also the dream, is the fate of tears and sings. The moon from the lake climbed up like a white cheese dripping from my mouth. In an unknown temple, or Millennium temple, I chose to sit with the Zen master. Folk songs and bayberry, dust and the past, with