"Spring"
As the rose is the reddest of all blood, it will grow blacker in the black wound, preventing the world from lifting or drooping the left arm, because It is not spring that is held tightly in my hand.
As the fire grows whiter in the white terror, so it will turn green in the eyes of the dying, not from hatred, but from love, which sinks in the flesh like wolf's claws. Spring love!
The spring with closed lips and clenched teeth spits out the hiss of a viper from the tongue, and shadows and hunger pass through the wolf's lungs, twisting and shaking in the upright blood.
The spring that wraps itself around our necks is a poisonous snake, and the spring that jumps into our arms is a pack of hungry wolves.
Like a rescued drowning man thrown into the fire, spring gives the power of bloodshed to love.
The snake wears the moon and bursts into flames; the wolf falls in love among the rose bushes.
This is not the fault of the lovers, nor the fault of the immortals imposed on us.
The evil in the human heart grows with all things, and it takes root where the dead can see it.
There, the human heart sees further than the eyes, and the hands are sucked into the nostrils like smoke.
One cannot put frozen hands on roses to warm them, although roses and flames come from the same call, conveying the annual blooming and annual burning in the left arms of everyone standing up.
One cannot put a burnt mouth to a flame to cool it, although the flame becomes water faster than a lover, rising to the coldest kiss among kisses, taken away once a year, a kiss Annually extinguished.
April 20, 1990 in Chengdu
Dynasty: Modern | Author: Ouyang Jianghe
"Spring"
I have almost Say it, but it's still coming to a small bud, does spring hold you steady? I'm almost about to say these little joys, but it's just passing by, just like my dazed thoughts, I can't barge into the spring for no reason. The poem was so bad that it shocked the soul, and at the same time it shocked the god with a broken arm on the balcony. As the light continued to be drawn out, the gathering dark clouds and storms occasionally revealed their majesty, and then they were beyond recognition like a fool. I had almost written down the names of these places "hills" , "wilderness" and "mine" but these cannot be repeated again. You see, they have passed by spring. There are almost no more precise words that disappear faster than this. I don't know more than you about the nothingness of spring.< /p>
Dynasty: Modern | Author: Shi Maosheng
"Whole Spring..."
I have been waiting for them to call me all spring. I think they will call me. I was anxious all spring, listening to the noise outside the house. I heard the sound of the wind moving, and I heard the sound of flower buds opening. As soon as there was a strange noise, I jumped up and opened the door. I stood at the door and looked for a long time. I thought they would come and call my mother to notice. I feel uneasy and look at me tenderly. I can't tell her anything. I just accept the pills she hands me. I think they are coming to call me. It's spring. It's a clear day. Birds are swarming outside the window with their mouths in the sky. I think they will come. Call me until the birds have left the trees
Dynasty: Modern | Author: Yu Jian
"Spring Sigh"
The pear blossoms are full of branches and the spring sigh , a tree of smoke and mist fell on the ridge, covered with a ghost-like coat, and the green smoke enveloped the sun. The reed flowers were grown by the neighbors in front of my father's grave, and the wind blew every night. Who said that spring was charming, and the green grass was reflecting wildly with will-o'-the-wisps? The face of solar terms is gloomy all day long. It is my father's village. Butterflies fly all over the village. One dances all day long. One is dressed in gorgeous clothes. Spring sighs and flies all over the sky. The obscene rain opens the underworld and the ghost gate. Ghost eyes are blurred. There is friendship. Note: Yingshang is the suburb of Nanchang. Cemetery
Dynasty: Modern | Author: Qing Xingxiao