Blue Horizon

散落在蜿蜒的道路上
青藍似墨，記憶暈開了手寫信
沾上滿手模糊的痕

所謂真理大概是
荒謬接連不斷
快要三十
才發現一輩子撇錯了筆順
寫著看似正常的字

總是
跳著三步錯一步對的探戈
摀著灰燼死命地吹
以為尚未燃盡
火光卻僅閃爍著回應

我不知自己為何於此
期待著世界會聽見
一遍又一遍
唱著傳不進耳裡的歌

Scattered on winding roads,
Blued like ink, memory bleeds into handwritten letters,
Staining my hands with blurred traces.

What’s called truth, perhaps,
Is absurdity piling endlessly,
Nearing thirty,
Only then realizing a lifetime of strokes in the wrong order,
Writing words that seem normal.

Always
Dancing a tango, three steps wrong, one step right,
Clutching ashes, blowing desperately,
Thinking the embers still burn,
Yet the firelight only flickers in reply.

I don’t know why I’m here,
Hoping the world might hear,
Over and over again,
Singing a song that never reaches my ears.