The Wall

You are the silent rift, East and West,

A barbed wire cage, your breath suppressed.

Gunfire salutes, as blood stains your crest.

 

Black and white, a tug-of-war, a test,

A crimson scar upon the winter's vest.

 

You isolate the matter, ignite the mind,

Consume yourself, to let the wind unwind,

Light pierces through, your will undefined.

 

You fall, a scab on history's face,

While people raise a glass to your disgrace,

Your pulse still throbs, unrestful in its place.

 

Atlantic waves propel you to the stage, 

Before a president's portrait, hearts engage, 

"Democracy," they cry, but you're a page,

Turned in a book of sorrow, pain, and rage.

 

Your spirit wanders, a nomadic ghost,

Across the Sonoran, death's relentless host.

The sun marks hours with your shadowed form,

Moonlight weaves through you, safe from storm.

 

Thousands of years, the East has watched,

As nomads turned to farmers, newly hatched.

You stretch your arms, touch mountains, sea, and skies,

Gazing at Korea's tides, where parallel lies.

 

In Jerusalem, you wander, lost and lone,

Listening to prayers at the Wailing Stone.

You seek to embrace the faithful, pure and true,

But cannot answer tears that fall like dew.

 

Until one day, on the Eastern Mediterranean shore, you are found,

Fortified by steel, yet underground,

Your cries unheard, a silent, hollow sound.

You pause and realize, you've never been unbound.

❖ ❖ ❖

​你是东西之间无声的裂痕，
铁丝网钳制你的呼吸，
枪声礼赞，鲜血染红你的顶峰。

黑白博弈，拉扯争斗，
冬雪衣衫，刻下猩红。

隔离物质，却点燃思想之火，
自我消亡，渴望风连接意识，
光线穿透，模糊意志的边界。

你倒下，
历史面容的痂，
人们举杯欢庆，
你的脉搏仍在颤动，不安宁息。

大西洋的波涛推你上舞台，
总统画像前，
人们伫立，高呼赞美——
“民主”，
却无人倾听你的叹息。

你的灵魂游荡，如幽灵漫步，
穿越索诺拉沙漠，死亡的囚徒。
太阳用你的影子刻画时间，
月光下人影在你身体穿梭。
 
你见证千年的东方，
游牧与农耕的更替，
伸展双臂，指尖触碰山海，
朝鲜的潮汐，平行线的尽头。

你徘徊耶路撒冷，
聆听哭墙下的祷告，
试图拥抱虔诚的灵魂，
却无法回应无助的泪水。

直到某日，你在地中海东岸现身，
钢铁铸就你的身躯，
呐喊却无声无息。
你霎那驻足，
发现自己从未摆脱束缚。