Imprisoned

When the eaves were frozen over with rime ice,

He played his cello through starry nights to the dancing mice.

Regards it more vulgar to satisfy their worldly hunger with rice,

Than to seduce gamblers with a dirty dice.

On left little finger wears a ring carved out of jade,

Which hand hibernated in a white glove for a decade.

Some guess his soul once had to through despair wade,

Goaded by a stony-heart or a sharp blade.

Before spring rain covered his window with sapphire drops,

The dreamy waltz of his fingers on piano keys never stops.

He said unique prayers; he listens to classical, jazz but no pops,

He occasionally visits galleries, museums and antique shops.

A stern woman brings him twice a month Pu'er tea,

From across an ocean of surging leaves underneath a gingko tree.

She holds the rusty key to his gate yet unable to set him free,

For his solitude is an irrevocable decree.

No grief, no surprise, no insanity, no fears.

No controversy, no sermon, no throb of pain, no tears.

At both superstition and corporal pleasures he sneers,

And squandered without mercy his black and white years.

創作靈感：

孤獨，在現代社會，似乎是一種沿著每個人骨髓生長的痕跡，雖然它對每個人的內涵和外延不盡相同。它是月下的吟嘯、是弦間的緘默、是樽前落淚、山巔放歌，是這首詩中男主人公潔癖一般從不脫下的白手套，也是稔熟茶香卻不懂人情、在銀杏落葉迷航一生中的女主角那一壺未沾凡間煙火的普洱茶。或許人并不喜歡畫地為牢，只是不知道孤獨的影子所能覆蓋的領域是如此之寬，以致自己在不知不覺的清高和疏離中就成為了一個無名的囚徒。