I was concentrating on the painful enjoyment of my toe's blister
Recognising quite a few historical faces on the slated path
"Look!"   Suddenly I overheard a scream
Immediately felt humiliated
Angry fire was burning in my chest
Pisa is my distant relative
How could I let others greet him before me

A shooting star is fallen
Pisa standing hauntedly
Smiling amid sneers
Like Spring cannot hide its green
Pisa will not conceal his clumsiness
Quell the vulgarity for life
Contribute his ugliness to comfort those of low self-esteem

A quaver note is drifting down
Howling for us
Release our grief or joy
Like a hot spicy steam-pot
Allow us to enjoy the exciting stimulation of simultaneous pain and heat
Ancient verse "Singing a song on and on as if weeping"
Pisa embracing the long lasting sorrow as if happiness

Place the heavenly beauty under the disguise of hellish appearance
He is a Buddha diving into the boiling water and walking on the flame
His body language interpreting the sutra
"I myself will go unto Hades lest others do"
He is the eccentric hermit in the Greenwood
Hanging his drunkenness from the steeple
He is you and me   One leg manacles a heavy "The Lightness of Being"

Everyday follows the untidy morning-after sunrays rising early
Prolong the hyphen behind the birth date of Who's who
He is still very much alive
Already immortalised by his absurdity
In the far distance of history ignite my iris' fire
His weakness is like the dampness on the wall
Gradually disappears in our sight

In the same boat as the broken armed Venus
Firstly chops off our sense of aesthetics
Offers us the healing pleasure of licking our wounds
Adjust our observation angle
Pisa is the most perfect defect
Under the bright sunlight's eyesight
Nobody is perfect