One Day
Lin Hui-yin

Today's twelve hours
are my twelve guests,
each has come and gone, in the end
even the setting sun is gone, trailing its shadow behind.
I don't have time to question my own thoughts,
but dusk has tiptoed over, filled with curiosity, stealing in.
I say: my friend, this time I won't complain to you,
every time I complain, it hurts my pride a little.
Dusk is quiet; it leaves without a word.
Alone in this silence I throw myself into the night.