The poet in an unknown prison
I am serving my sentence in a tangible prison,
while you wait in the intangible prison of the heart.
Your love is the sunlight that leaps over high walls and penetrates the iron bars of my prison window, stroking every inch of my skin, warming every cell of my body, allowing me to always keep peace, openness, and brightness in my heart, and filling every minute of my time in prison with meaning.
My love for you, on the other hand, is so full of remorse and regret that it at times makes me stagger under its weight. I am an insensate stone in the wilderness, whipped by fierce wind and torrential rain, so cold that no one dares touch me. But my love is solid and sharp, capable of piercing through any obstacle. Even if I were crushed into powder, I would still use my ashes to embrace you.
Äntligen hittade jag det, det Liu Xiaobo skrev till sin fru. Sittandes i sin fängelsecell.
Det som Anne Hathaway läste upp på Nobels fredspriskonsert tillägnad honom. Det som är så jävla vackert.
Orden rör vid min själ.
Det som Anne Hathaway läste upp på Nobels fredspriskonsert tillägnad honom. Det som är så jävla vackert.
Orden rör vid min själ.
“I am serving my sentence in a tangible prison, while you wait in the intangible prison of the heart. Your love is the sunlight that leaps over high walls and penetrates the iron bars of my prison window, stroking every inch of my skin, warming every cell of my body, allowing me to always keep peace, openness, and brightness in my heart, and filling every minute of my time in prison with meaning.
My love for you, on the other hand, is so full of remorse and regret that it at times makes me stagger under its weight. I am an insensate stone in the wilderness, whipped by fierce wind and torrential rain, so cold that no one dares touch me. But my love is solid and sharp, capable of piercing through any obstacle. Even if I were crushed into powder, I would still use my ashes to embrace you.”
Kommentarer
Trackback
