-Gu Cheng
I wish I were a child sleeping in a dream,
I wish I were a free-flying child,
I wish I were a child in a fairy tale,
Didn't realize his dream,
But burning the blueprint of dreams without leaving a trace,
Unable to move forward,
But they refused.
Many times, we are wayward children.
We all have clumsy freedom,
Eyes without tears.
perhaps
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
Draw an imaginary picture.
My lover
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Painting mountains—
Full of fuzzy fluff
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring is exciting.
Turned into a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival-
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to erase all my misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation
Draw the sea—
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
So many dreams,
So much hope,
Can't be achieved,
We are all wayward children,
Those days
Maybe,
Not as happy as I thought,
But it is also so precious,
So simple,
Such a wayward childhood.
Reason: In this poem, the poet observes and feels the world with a child's eyes and heart, hoping to draw a colorful blueprint of life in the fantasy world with colored crayons, and draw "clumsy freedom", "eyes that will never cry" and "love without pain". However, can this whimsical blueprint be realized in the real world? The poet left fantasy and returned to reality. "I didn't get the crayon" means that my ideal blueprint has not been recognized by the society, so I can only "tear up that blank sheet of paper in Zhang Xinai" in despair. "White paper" refers to "self", life or unwritten poems. But did the poet stop pursuing fantasy? No. The last verse of the poem once again points out that "I" is "a child spoiled by my imaginary mother". I am willful and will continue to pursue fantasy persistently.