Alley
Sloping old roofs
Shivering in the cold
The lips of the wooden door are tightly closed
The grinding sound is faint
The gray magpie chirps
The door creaks open
Someone is coming, someone is coming
An old woman who has been crying all night
A mute throat
Leaning weakly on the decayed doorpost
An old woman who has experienced many vicissitudes of life
Awakening from an endless nightmare
His hands touched the moss on the corrugated tiles
The dark and mottled tiles fell in a panic
The last drop of hope at dawn Sunbathing on the wall
Crowds of mourners filed past
Someone returned to his eternal home
The chain holding her door was broken
Her basket for holding garbage broke
Her bucket for collecting water broke into eight pieces
The knotted well rope
dug out the stone railing A series of dents
Her time has come, and she will return to her eternal home
Like the morning wind unintentionally raising dirt, filling the void
She didn't say a word when she left
She just left her tearful eyes
Abandoned in the dirt of the world