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The wounded Devil
refresh the hour of thirst, the broken
promise remind the heart that fall, where
tears and droplets of water flown out in
goodness scatters in the ground
pick a little bit, heal the broken saddle
of mercy, the tie is broken and the loser
shout for joy, remember the blind can see
and the mute can talk
look and dig the log in your eyes, the
mountain echo and there echo lauds in
every land, yet the pen and the arrogant
ring always in the bell, for nothing left in
the heart than a chaos refrain
mark up the cry the tears watches
the dog to bite until the blood forgives,
the clouds awaits your return for even the
devil face pullout its tears
between lines the devil lives in me...
poem
by
Antonio Liao
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