给你写一百首诗

也抵不上你对我说

一个字

游弋于游戏

却在背后

悄悄哭泣

并非两个

神圣的符号

而是两颗

肉做的心

缄默

最锋利的武器

开辟出

一片寂静的战场

你问

如何收场

我答

太初有言

υ. Word of words

A hundred poems

Are no worthier than

One word of yours

Playing games

With a proud smile

Then crying

In my own shadows

We are not

Two sacred symbols

But two hearts

made of meat

Silence is your vow

The sharpest sword

That opens

A soundless battlefield

You ask

How to find peace

I answer

In the beginning

Was the word

July 13, Evening