生命之诗Song of Myself.docx

生命之诗Song of MyselfThe first thing I ever heard was a wandering man telling his story. It was you, the grass under my bare feet, the campfire in the dead if the night, the heavenly black of sky and sea. It was us, roaming the rainy roads, combing the gilded beaches, waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morning, bathing in places no-ones seen before, shipwrecked on some matt-painted island, clad in nothing but the surf, beautys finest robe. Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of nature, in early air of the dawn of life, a sight to silence the heavens. I want to travel where life travels, following its permanent lead, where the air tastes like snow music, where grass smells like fresh-born Eden. I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture. I would bathe in a world of sensation, love, goodness and simplicity. While violated and imprisoned by technology, the thought of my familys graves was the only moment that I used to experience true love. That love remains infinite. As Ill never be the man my father is. How can you “just be yourself” when you dont know who you are? Stop saying “I know how you feel”. How could anyone know how another feels? Who am I to judge a priest, beggar, whore, politician, wrongdoer? I am, you are, all of them already. Dear child, stop working, go play, forget every rule. Theres no fear in a dream. “Is there a village inside this snowflake?” A child asked me. “Whats the color of our lullaby?” Ive never been so close to truth as then. I touched its silver lining. Death is the winner in any war. Nothing noble in dying for your religion, for your country, for ideology, for faith, for another man, yes