Who dares to touch the burning pain
Who dares to approach the moment of death?
A thousand times
Ten million moths
Jump in the same position
Jump on the flame that has never been extinguished for thousands of years.
Jump into the ridiculous spirit of thousands of years.
On this cold winter night
Who saw it in the dark?
There are thousands of moths around the jumping fire.
Suck hot milk on the fire.
Drink the thick smell of fire.
Soft music and beautiful dance.
Until the last moment of life
Thousands of moths are covered with black cloth.
Layers are stacked around the lit altar.
Zhuang Mu's recitation is a dark poem.
Only those who were aboveboard before their death.
Perform the most beautiful dance of your ancestors.
Embroidered holy white dress
Fly to the nine-fold refining fire
one by one
Pass the immortal torch
Moths pounced on the candle flame.
Good, brave action.
The moth aimed at the center of the blazing flame.
Fierce secret without saying a word
Like a precise kite attack.
Then I heard spasms and pains.
And the sound of wings landing
Like a nirvana phoenix torn by beauty.
Moths crave fire more than once.
In the dark and crowded night
They accept the joy of death as if they were engaged.
Pave the way with faith and corpses
They prayed to the light for their final glory.
afterburnt
Moths are not reckless inertia.
Understand the ancient fire totem
And the meaning of light brought by kindling.
We are embraced by flames like newborn babies.
We feel deeper kindness than wheat.
First of all, moths
It's not that I'm too sad
It's not that I lost myself.
I just fell in love with your firefly late at night.
Loneliness burns in the quiet corner.
Without my bitter tears
Without your promise
Don't hesitate to throw yourself into your arms
Just a song in my life.
Mild trap
Burn me and wander.
Bright sparks
Is your heart warm?
My heartbreaking smile
Have your eyes stopped?
Frozen sad song of heartbreak
The legend of freezing love
Hall
This winter night, the wind has been singing.
Sing a song I don't understand.
The silence of nature and the noisy dawn
And the sunshine I've never seen clearly
Modern and abstract, like curled smoke torn by the wind.
I'm sure it's the wind
Make a mess of the night
Wildfire in the dark
The traveler is gone.
Let me burn quietly
Swing in the wind
Where are you from, dear?
Touch my loneliness.
Where are you going, my baby?
Let me be swallowed up by the night and the cold wind
Your dance moves in my eyes.
Dancing with the sadness of the night
You said you wanted to protect me from the cold.
I said I would drive away the endless darkness for you.
You said you would fly close to me and give me the burning of life.
I said I want to hug you and give you a warm baby.
Your dance is fixed in my arms.
Suddenly I saw your tears.
Dear people.
Did you hear my heart break with a bang?
Three years later.
Many people walked quietly through the dawn and dusk of this piece of birds and flowers.
There was a song in the distance that no one could understand.
Who is still dancing in the beautiful rhythm?
Who is still dancing with burning tears?
Who is still flying to extinction without hesitation?
Who will smile in the fire and say that there is no regret in this life?
Many people have heard of it.
Pedantic moths and persistent wildfires
A sad song, a broken heart
The legend of love death
No one found the moth that once burst into tears.
No one is looking for a wildfire that once burned with passion.
Maybe it's just red-hot rocks on the edge of the jungle.
Still trying to tell the legend of the past
Ode to moths (poetry)
(A) the pursuit of light
Jumped at the fire again and again.
Burn again, no regrets
Their offspring carry phototaxis genes.
To light a bright fire.
(2) Persistence in the goal
In turn, I rushed to the lantern that lit kerosene.
Jumped at the blazing incandescent lamp
Jumped at the cold fluorescent lamp.
Against the light of the energy-saving lamp magnetic storm.
If there is no light at night, it is just around the corner.
They will pounce on the faint moonlight
They will pounce on the distant stars.
Even against lightning that breaks trees.
Jump into the light of self-destruction
Run to the light and smash into pieces
I hope the light doesn't look back.
Dream of bright self-sacrifice
Lift a burning heart
Receive the lovesickness of moths hitting the wall
Accept the ideal flight of moths
Become a moth in Liang Zhu's music
(3) Imagination of leaves and moths
In the cry of autumn wind in the long night
Soak in the autumn rain in the morning
Watch the trees fly down.
A moth is in a place
Step on the yellow body of a moth
Illusion. They germinate in spring.
Summer growth
autumn
Autumn rain outside the window hits in the early morning.
Warm tears flowed in through the window.
Moth wet on the ground.
Dance gently on the floor with the wind
In the morning, the sweeper collected the bodies of moths.
Raise a burning mound
He used a bag of flour.
Feed the sheep with bright moths.
The child behind him.
Get a lighter.
Lit a pile of moths.
Moths burn and fly.
(4) Happy moths
The weather is getting sunny every day.
Moths ate, drank, exposed and dormant in the green space.
Become a good meal for others in birdsong and Yan language.
Fly to the light at night and become a snack for bats.
The short and brilliant life of moths.
He can't remember how much sadness.
His happy short life.
Fly to the light happily, fly.
(5) Tragic moths
Among the colorful butterflies.
Looking for black and white moths
Even hope that color blindness is incomplete.
I only see moths.
Watch the big moths eat the little moths.
Moth-eating bird
The bird became a moth.
The bird-eating moth is an eagle.
A dazzling world of moths
Eager to spread your wings and fly
Fly to a quiet distance
Nothing moves there.
Immobile moths piled up in layers.
Coral where elephants grow.
There is a dead man in the dark.
But active ethnic groups
Coral ash and flowers
The moth passed through the porthole of the plane.
Fell on the land he loved.
The moth that carries on the past and opens the future is looking forward to the light.
(6) Rising moths
Burning moths after autumn rain
Light up the light of deep winter.
Snowflake moth.
Fly quietly
In the world of white moths
Small integration and large extension
Because there is a moth's mind hidden.
The snowfield will burn in the sunset.
Coral covered with moths
Of all the angles of refraction,
All reveal the flying soul.
Calling for flying snowflakes
Conclusion:
Life rises in flying blood bubbles.
If you don't fly, you will die.
Be down-to-earth.
You can't take a solid step.