赏你五个指头
You never liked to getThe letters that I sent.But now you've got the gistOf what my letters meant.You're reading them again,The ones you didn't burn.You press them to your lips,My pages of concern.I said there'd been a flood.I said there's nothing left.I hoped that you would come.I gave you my address.Your story was so long,The plot was so intense,It took you years to crossThe lines of self-defense.The wounded forms appear:The loss, the full extent;And simple kindness here,The solitude of strength.I said there'd been a flood.I said there's nothing left.I hoped that you would come.I gave you my address.You walk into my room.You stand there at my desk,Begin your letter toThe one who's coming next.Begin your letter toThe one who's coming next.
