In your presence, I should be silent The truth is we've never actually met In this life or even next. No matter The closest encounter came when I drove past Seattle a city named after another great Chief Great but dead. No matter
As I looked out of the car window In the far distance there stood a mountain, a majestic peak downing the color of snow white the color of mourning in silence That was the moment when I recalled you the unknown chief who I've never met Except I had a stamp bearing your portrait Never before that stamp had I seen so much kindness in one face
At once did you remind me of my grandpa a gentleman of millennia in the making Thus you become my chief, my nameless chief At once you bring back thousands of years of hunting and hurting of famine and festivity of tribal war and co-existence of avalanche and bonfire of drought and flood of death and birth of adversity and humanity of wisdom and tolerance and of this green earth Thousands of years have cut out a magnanimity that is as wide as the ocean and as far-gazing as the mountain a trait that could never be matched by any race for the rest of time
I could never fathom a sadness so spectacular How could you have no idea, my beloved chief how small other hearts really were The harshness of life brought you wisdom That has become part of your stupidity and eventually your demise
I can't even speak too loudly in your presence how could I scream across the corridor of time -- there are times a virtuous man can't afford virtue When dealing with low lives a gentlemen's kindness becomes his vulnerability and his peril You were badly outnumbered by low lives, my Chief
Rumor says that you were ignorant, uneducated You'd devoted too many years to feelings Generations of you trickled into a weird meditation and a strong conviction of harmlessness You had converted hateful and unruly hearts into love rough-edged love that would outlast time itself But that love could never rescue you from that final avalanche Tolerance is not an original impulse but a great tradition of awakening. Silence has been perfected into an art form You are the first ever to have reached humanity in its original sense. In silence and now in blankness
Devotion can be joy and pain at the same time It shows on your face, you have an expression that forever reminds me of my grandpa It's this resemblance that captures me and makes you my Chief, my chief sadness
Life does not repeat itself so we can never have the same splendor and misery again and again Chief is a life time recognition Because of you, my wound is forever wider than the sky a sadness is so unbearably spectacular
How could anyone justify that thousands of years of self-perfection, maturation and wisdom only ended up as a stamp ... my Chief How could a mountain ever disappear from the face of this god-damn earth How could wisdom of millennia be wasted so completely on a stamp? How ...
Looking at the postmarks so rude My muscle spasm tells me that you are dead killed, murdered, extinct In death you become my beloved Chief Deader than death itself Thus you make me tremble You make me think of jungle and its many animals of venom uncivilized mannerism in the name of civilization and the so-called education
雷达卡
发表于 2013-1-6 10:39:57
分享
收藏
提升卡
喧嚣卡
变色卡
千斤顶
照妖镜