James Ducamus.
I just left my father and walked down.
Under the irradiation of colored glass
Under the blue light
He is getting farther and farther away from me.
I walked across six white floors.
Go to the sidewalk on the side of the road.
Still feel that my father is on the rise,
I walked through solid streets,
My shoulder blades sparkle
The light reflected from the glass of the building.
Now I have to turn around and face it,
Recognize the window of my father's room.
Every window has sunshine.
It's like that window lit with a wick.
I waved like a man on fire.
All the dark glass windows are flashing,
Behind the window, all the white rooms are glowing.
They show blue light in the sky.
Ritually, solemnly, weakly,
Dozens of pale hands
Wave to me from the flames.
But one of the pure windows
The bright and clean window didn't stick out.
I know my father is there,
In a dying life.
There is more and more traffic around me.
My brain suddenly went crazy.
The car horn exploded at me like a gun,
The driver leaned out of the window and was driven crazy-
But at this time, the bedridden father
Finally raised his arm from the stillness.
The light from the window shines on me.
I also became the blue light of the sky,
Just like when I was born.
I'm not worried about my father-
Look! He is smiling; He doesn't know either.
Worried about me,
Then the wild engine was on my knee.
They stepped on the gas and roared,
My action stuck the car.
A few miles away, the whistle seemed to be ringing
Blow down the wall of this world
Dying people can float away carefree.
Under my father's strong blue light.
I slowly came to the sidewalk.
At the end of my bloodless arm
It's my half-dead, motionless, stinging hand.
I was surprised to help this hand,
Reach high, get higher and higher, still waving,
My recognized face can't last forever,
But not dead; Not at all, no doubt,
Tired, afterlife, injured,
Tone of artificially dyed glass.
I just left my father and walked down.