Modern poetry on the top of Tiantangzhai

1

Along the ridged back

Toward the sinking sun

Climbing to the heart of the universe

In the light red cloak

A stunned bird was lost in thought

The thin mist dispersed and flashed out

A half-overturned broken jar< /p>

In the laughter of moss

The past has been drained

There is no cough in time

Awakening or warning

In the red light of brightness and extinction

On the top of heaven, the door is slightly open

I am like a stubborn crutch

Stretching out in Kuafu’s back Long

 2

Who is the first climber?

The smooth stone wall is covered with colorful seals

The fingers were once implanted in the steep cracks

The dangling feet , many years

Looking for an unexpected platform

The primitive loneliness fell quietly

I reached out to the heights, towards the ancient times

Conveying the only language that makes sense

In my long-lasting inspiration

Eyes that have returned to their souls

Leaping out from the stone cracks< /p>

Looking at the peak

A broken rope was entangled at the tip of the stone

I looked down:

How many wings fell down

The crimson edge

The gentle breeze blows, and it feels like the brush of wings

Who will whisper leisurely, the dream is blurred

The Jingwei has flown Go

King Mu will never return.

The sound of Xihe's whip

Many hands are eager to grasp the saddle

What they hold is a short opera

Who doesn't want to pull the red curtain Open

Who’s hand is too small

Only grasping a corner

I can’t understand it in the haze

I have devoted my life to this

 3

So, like a grass worm

Arching towards the twisted intestines

The night is low, fingers

Playing the deeper darkness

A shower is coming, and a flash of lightning comes

Only then did you realize that I was still squirming on the mountainside

A ginkgo suddenly appeared Falling

The moans stained the forest

The top of Tiantang Village without heaven

Blooming among the towering branches and leaves of the night

Gangfeng Blow away the remaining feathers on my head

Encourage the dancing top to scream wildly

When the fishhook of a waning moon slips

I bite towards that Fishing without bait

Looking up at the stars dotting the mountain tops

I hung the skin on the rock

All the nightingales in my soul have fled