To the Lighthouse

Sail a little boat and head 

To the Lighthouse

The wind 

belongs to Father 

And the rocks 

to Mother 

In the darkness they talk

To each other 

“Some dinners were never meant to be finished. Some paintings, 

never completed.”

So we prop our heads on our hands

And watch 

A seagull fetching a stone

From the past 

And buries it into the ocean until it becomes

When the future comes

A baby’s bone 

划一只小船 

到灯塔去 

父亲的沉默 

变成暮色中的风

一声一声地拍打着

黑暗的 母亲的礁石 

有些晚餐一直没有吃完

就像一些画作永远无法脱胎 

于是我们托着腮

看海鸥衔来一块过去的石头 

看它慢慢沉入海底

然后变成未来

孩子的骨头