one
The moon of the factory
Covered with rusty clouds
Rust on the body
Wandering like a wisp of fire in a stove
moon
Cast in the color of iron.
If that's a daisy,
It is also a melancholy in the middle of winter.
There is no beautiful image of Mid-Autumn Festival.
From this end of the horizon
Go straight to the end.
Carrying a heavy bag all the way
Look up; look up
You hide in the clouds.
Fear of splashing steel
Hit people.
two
I long for it to be a chrysanthemum.
A cluster can open your eyes.
Fragrant chrysanthemum
Sadness in the wind
A cluster of chrysanthemums stands on a cloudy field.
Withered branches and leaves
Spend it in trance.
The patient's body swayed in the wind.
This chrysanthemum is intimate after the rain.
The fresh soul has something to say.
Look at each other and listen.
Steel collided in it.
three
I really want to transplant you into my dream.
Chrysanthemum in my dream
Be cultivated by steel
Thoughts without tenderness
Nagongju
It is air-dried and has no fragrance of missing.
Like an old man
On steel crutches
Try to polish the impression in memory.
And your branches and leaves
Has been in the mechanical noise.
Don't sing.