Without tedious appreciation, it may be ignorance or laziness, but as long as you feel beautiful when reading it, it is a perfect interpretation of poetry.
I was in the north on a lonely morning
One morning in the north.
Miss someone
I am a draft of some poems.
You are a poem.
I want to take all the red azaleas from the mountain.
Walk into the quiet skydiving tower
I am clearly aware that
There is a big river ahead.
And vast northern grasslands.
Beauty always fascinates me.
Someone has already
Start shining on me
On that lonely and crowded little platform
You shine on my way like a star.
On this mountain
Why do I only see this one?
Beautiful cuckoo?
I only saw this one.
It's really red and beautiful.
I'm on this night
I live on a hillside.
Fangzili
There are all springs in front of me.
Or the sound of water in a stream
Quiet skydiving tower
Magic house, you open the door.
Let me stay in this happy door forever.
The rolling peaks in the north
Distant
There are only nine trees.
Why do the azaleas all over the mountain only see such a tree, which is beautiful and red? I like Haizi and never explain.
There is a mystery that you can't control.
You can only be a bystander.
Let the mysterious power.
Send a signal from a distance
Let the light pass through your heart.
Like tonight, in Hargil.
In this desolate place far from the city
On the Tibetan Plateau
Next to a train station the size of a broad bean
I look up at the stars.
At this time, the river is silent and the birds' wings are thin.
The grass grows wildly towards the stars.
The horse forgot to fly.
The wind blows the empty night, blowing me.
The wind blows the future and the past.
I became a person, a room.
A hut with an oil lamp burning.
The cold roof of this hut.
Stepped into the altar by billions of feet of stars
I, like a child receiving communion.
Enlarge courage, but hold your breath.
How much beauty and shock did the mysterious and primitive starry sky give you on the plateau closest to heaven?
Wind, the last residual temperature of sparrows
Blowing towards the sunset
Last winter
We are not born.
Holy prophecy, let's go.
Walk through the arch built by the hunchback old man
Leave the key.
Walk through the narrowest ghost hall
Put the nightmare behind you
Leave all the extra things behind.
We don't owe anything
Even selling clothes and shoes.
Put the last ration
Leave jingling money
Last winter
Sing a song.
No blessings, no prayers.
We'll never go back.
Decorate the leaves painted green.
In the season of losing temptation.
Fruit that cannot be brewed into wine
Will not turn into sour water.
Roll cigarettes with newspapers.
Let the dark clouds be as loyal as dogs
Follow closely like a dog
Erase all the lies in the sun.
Last winter
Not in green slutty.
Fall, let it be.
Do not repeat the lightning spell.
Let thoughts be omitted like a string of raindrops
Or under the surveillance of noon.
Walking down the street like a prisoner
Step on your own shadow
Or hide behind curtains.
Stuttering the words of the dead.
Performing the pleasure of being abused
Last winter
Where the river freezes.
The road began to clear.
The crow is on the pebbles on the beach.
Hatched one moon after another.
Everyone knows who's awake.
Dreams will come to the earth
Condensed into morning cream
Not those tired stars
The era of evil is coming to an end.
The iceberg continues.
Become a statue of a generation
As winter approaches, I choose to have nothing and start from scratch.
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
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 a festival to wake up in the morning-
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 last 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
Gu Cheng, who has always been pure as a child, is so capricious even in poetry.
Youth (1)
All endings have been written.
All the tears have also flowed out.
I suddenly forgot what kind of beginning this was.
On that ancient summer day that is gone forever.
No matter how I pursue it.
Young you are just passing by.
And your smile is extremely shallow.
Gradually disappeared into the mist after sunset.
Turn the yellow title page over page by page.
Fate has bound it badly.
I read and read with tears in my eyes.
But I have to admit.
youth
This is a sloppy book.
Youth (2)
On the night of forty-five.
Suddenly I miss her young eyes.
Think of the summer when she was sixteen.
Walking slowly towards him from the hillside.
The sunshine outside the forest is dazzling.
Her skirt is so white.
Remember that hill full of tea trees?
A sky full of clouds and cicadas in my ears
In the silent forest
Youth (3)
I love tonight.
Look back at the mountain road when you come.
Only to find that our days are over
In a completely different way
I have been here and gone.
A vision so enthusiastically planned.
Such a blueprint drawn carefully and accurately.
I was so eager for youth.
But always
Never been here.
Youth is like the draft of some poems. When I arrange the most beautiful words, I never have a chance to read them to anyone.
Pipa, accompany my pipa:
Although the army is calm now,
I can only hear crows,
I want to use my skin-cutting nails
Pop out of my heart.
Pipa, accompany my pipa:
There is no grass sprouting here,
There are no low branches;
In front of Chilechuan at the foot of Yan Zhishan,
Only ice trees bear Qionghua.
Pipa, accompany my pipa:
I dare not watch the sunset and the flat beach.
Wild geese fly under the dusk clouds,
Can't convey a word for me.
Go to the house outside the haze.
Pipa, accompany my pipa:
I remember being elected to Beijing,
Always lamenting the southern sky,
I know I'm going to marry away now,
Watching Zhaoyang is the end of the world.
Pipa, accompany my pipa:
You see, the setting sun, the flat beach,
The night wind blows in the wilderness,
In response to the horse's neigh,
Hu Jia was shaking in the distance.
Retro version of modern poetry, catchy rhythm, you deserve a little singing.
Tonight
The wind is quiet.
A bridge railing like a stick insect
Crawl quietly
Took the bushes at dusk
His lover
I'm waiting.
ring
The bell sinking into the sea
The limestone church on the shore is melting.
Is turning into sand.
After a terrible storm.
Become warm and humid
I'll be waiting.
I am standing
Tears filled my eyes.
I'm standing alone
Hold high happiness
Holding high the sky that is too heavy to tremble.
Brown gray cylinder head
There is a white cloud resting.
finally
The dance broke up.
A group of bat stars passed by here.
They are wearing gold brooches.
They squeaked:
You are so stupid,
The lamp fell asleep.
Dedicated to the darkness of mediocrity
The shadows have all gone home. Let's go.
Nobody knows about you.
need
This loyalty
wait for
You know
you need
You lit up all the stars and lights.
I know that too.
When everything is calm
After being put out in drowsy disappointment
You will come.
Will approach me from behind.
Before waking up at the first bird song
?get close to me
Take off the long pale green scarf.
You are Dawn.
I'm waiting in pain, waiting for the happy answer from the dawn.
Remember earlier when I was a teenager?
Everyone is sincere.
A word is a word.
Chen Qing Railway Station
The long street was dark and empty.
The small shop selling soybean milk is steaming hot.
In the past, the color of the sun changed slowly.
Cars, horses and mail are all slow.
Love only one person in my life.
These locks used to look good, too.
The key is exquisite fashion.
Why don't you lock it up?
Slow is never before, but people's hearts.