Vases of Time
I wander cobbled lanes, where time is laid in stone,
Through narrow alleys—homes of dust and dignity.
Each crack bears life: an herb, a vine, a seedling sown,
Defiant green in concrete’s grip yet growing free.
The years have spilled their vases here, their memories bright—
Shards of laughter, labor, twilight’s fading glow.
No gilded halls, yet every stoop is edged with light,
Each potted bloom a verse the weary earth might know.
O, this quiet fortitude! The hands that toil
To coax the beansprout from the scorned and barren ground,
To paint the gray with scarlet blooms, to mend, to foil
The theft of time with roots that split the silence sound.
What lords could rival such an art? What palace gleams
Like these patched roofs where stubborn jasmine dares to climb?
The poor man’s garden, watered deep with patient dreams,
Outlives the pride of kings—a vase to hold the time.
时间的花瓶
我在鹅卵石小巷里徘徊，那里的时间是石头，
穿过狭窄的小巷——尘土飞扬和尊严的家。
每条裂缝都承载着生命：一种草药、一棵藤蔓、一棵播种的幼苗，
在混凝土的抓地力中藌藌荗的绿色，但又自由生长。
这些年把他们的花瓶洒在这里，他们的记忆很明亮
笑声的碎片，劳动，暮光之城褪色的光芒。
没有镀金的大厅，但每个斜坡都被光线包围着，
每个盆栽花都是疲惫的大地可能知道的诗句。
哦，标记这种安静的毅力！ 那些手在工作
从被鄙视和贫瘠的地面上哄骗豆芽，
用猩红的花朵涂上灰色，修盔，烫金
时间的盗窃与分裂沉默声音的根源。
什么领主能与这样的艺术相媲美？ 什么宫殿闪闪发光
就像这些顽固的茉莉花敢爬的屋顶一样？
穷人的花园，被耐心的梦深深浇灌，
超越国王的骄傲——一个可以容纳时间的花瓶。