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Standing in the empty field.

Surrounded by the dying straw.

I look at the stormy sky,

I guess I’m trapped.

“There are ways,” you said.

Up to the sky.

Down beneath the fence.

I look at the stormy sky,

I think I’m trapped.

You blame me for ignoring the ways,

but do I really have a choice?

I don’t have wings to fly towards the sky.

I can’t trick myself to pass through the fence.

I look at the stormy sky,

I won’t cover my eyes.

Up to the unknown.

Down beneath the covering.

There are ways.

I look at the stormy sky.

Trapped.

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Gibberish

我在想的是

有风筝挣脱了筝线，

斜上了蓝天。

有气球卡在栅栏间，

随着风摇曳。

栏内的倒影映出了平静的天，

栏外的水洼却照不出约束的线。

空中的纸鸢怕不是云给的幻觉，

水洼里的筝轮又曾连哪缕断线？

栅栏内的气球终究是未飞出圈，

又怎知这圈可是画地为牢的线？

What I’m thinking is

The kite broke off from the string,

flying towards the sky.

The balloon stuck between the fence,

swaying in the air.

The puddle inside the fence reflects the calm sky,

the puddle outside won’t reflect the enclosing lines.

The kite was only an illusion given by the sky,

but where is the broken string once hold by the wheel lay in the plash?

The balloon failed to escape from the fence in the end,

but what if the fence is just the prison I drew by my own hands?

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The cause, the reason is just an imagination after an existed result.

“Why put the flower on the floor? Why is it a bunch of flower instead of one? Why is the flower red? Why choose the Alstroemeria? Why choose the flower? Why……”

“Because I don’t have a vase. Because I bought the bunch instead of one. Because I love red. Because I don’t even know it’s called Alstroemeria. Because I put an apple last time. Because……”

That’s the answer, that’s the cause.

I have plenty of bottles. I can always only pick one. That’s not the only red one, not to mention I also like black and white. The name doesn’t matter because it’s just a symbol for human being to understand. I can always put an orange this time……

That’s not the answer, that will never be the cause.