近日聽某人說了一句話：「I am a rock.」
想起了一首歌，心有所感。
A winter’s day in a deep and dark December; I am alone.
Gazing from my window, to the streets below.
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock. I am an island.
I’ve built walls, a fortress deep and mighty.
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock. I am an island.
Don’t talk of love; but I’ve heard the word before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
And I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock. I am an island.
I have my books and my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armour.
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb;
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock. I am an island.
And rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.
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