the abundant grains wait the harvester to
ripe the fallen staff, as the rushing wind hurdle the
muddy field of hay; waiting the bird to pick and
pickle
abode the direction of the Siberian chilled moist
the wishing bell started to tell, the snow ball lasted
for a year and the glacier of Ireland blasted for a call
nothing has change only for a sun to seat it down,
flagging the window of the shaping hand, where
everybody is dancing and rejoicing the coming final
day, certainly it will come
let the abode of the heart, is the number one, for
only the heart will come to window the shadow of the
battle field of today, neither be another day will shine;
the raging sea vote to cliff the stone and the bird
above the ocean
follow each dropp of the rain surely, it pass bye; the
narrow deep blue sea as it conquer the unsinkable
wide ocean of victory......
Antonio Liao
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perfume-of-the-heart/
