I put pen to paper intermittently.
Afraid of the bitter rain in April
Wet my every word.
Smoke rises from the kitchen.
Unless you want to draw red, you are on the other side.
Staring eyes, indifference
Now, across a shallow cloud.
You are in the sky and I am on the ground.
The sky is gloomy.
The world is deep.
Past and future
We used to be close and stopped looking at each other.
Those who hold hands will eventually turn to ashes and tears.
And deeply regret it!
If it weren't for the sudden, you still don't hurry!
Take away a dozen springs and a dozen autumns.
Joy in tone for more than ten years
Figures interwoven under a dozen lamps,
Mottled, yellow-
If not, it is the dispersion of crying.
Deep in this wilderness
There should always be one less person,
Sadness, sadness
April rain will not fall on poets.
Nor will it fall on crops.
Quietly lonely end.
The newly built tomb is empty,
The ancient tomb is covered with thick grass.
You are still in the heavy sky.
I am in the abyss world.
Heartbroken, heartbroken