原创诗
I hold the eleven-year-old letter
when I was eighteen
What a beautiful handwriting you did
So much pain I gain from it
Though the meaning of lines my wet eyes can't tell
My mind does read between the lines still
I look up to the darkest sky
and find the brightest star hangs over there
Shining with the divine halo
Then my spirit sparkles unknown
And permanent power bestowed upon me
to fight for the timeless truth in galaxy
The night is tender
Tender is the night
Tender Is the Night
刚刚开始写英文诗，笔法拙笨，还望见谅。借此平台结交爱好英文的良师益友。
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