仍然抿着嘴，不发一言。

也不送我一朵花。

却把胸膛打开，暴露空洞

其中燃烧着夏夜的星

和蝎子的火。

我的心就这样

辉煌地碎裂。

夜之河，流向时间

变为血色。

这杯鲜红的酒，倒映着星空

无一字，但故事已写下。

待到寒夜，它将温暖你我的血管。

跟着

黑暗里的桂花香

从痛苦的温床

回到世界的

这一侧。

ξ. Mead of the World

Still, tight-lipped, without a word.

Not even a flower for me.

Yet, opening your chest and revealing its hole

where the summer stars blaze

and Scorpius burns.

Just like that, my heart

breaks radiantly.

The river of night flows into time

And turns blood-red.

This crimson cup of wine, reflecting the stars

Without a word, yet the story has been written

In a freezing night, it will warm

our veins.

Following

the scent of osmanthus

​in the dark

leaving behind

the hotbed of pain

and returning to

this side of the world.

June 5-June 6 morning