在永恒的故园,我的父土。我的痛楚没有岸,是的,没有边缘。但在每一个时辰,我都感恩习以为常的一日三餐。我信神,它是我生命的亮光。伤口中可以长出细腻的芽,盛开自在的花。万物是肉身的轮廓。正如尖顶和四维上下的时空是灵魂的轮廓。我歌唱黎明的震颤。歌唱钉痕的手,遮过平原上所有的苦。此刻,晨祷的馨香降临于我和我们凉薄的屋顶,并慢慢儿滴落。 In the eternal hometown, my father’s homeland. My pain is no shore, yes, no edge. But in every hour, I feel grateful to eat three meals a day. I believe in God, it is the light of my life. Wounds can grow delicate buds, flowers in full bloom. Everything is the outline of the flesh. Just as spire and four-dimensional space-time is the outline of the soul. I sing the tremor of dawn. Sing the hand of the nail, covering all the bitterness on the plain. At this moment, the sweet morning prayer came upon me and our cool roof, and slowly dripped.