?
Soft?
Move your softness to the other side.
The other side becomes a river.
Soft light fell on the window.
Slip through my fingers at once
A stream outside the window is softening the distant mountains.
In a radical way, send it further.
Now you are sitting in front of you.
You are softened by the wind.
Your eyes flow over my shoulder.
I swim in a very soft swimming pool.
Comments: A feeling of drunkenness makes the mountain sink into the eyes of beauty, even though gold and Ma Qianli turn into soft fingers.
?
I'm sitting back in time. I like to sit in some places, a stone.
Or a pile of wood. Time will go back, inch by inch.
Retreat to distant yesterday, the day before yesterday.
At that time, there were only black and white photos and color films.
Are spread out in the wild. In spring, pollen falls on my nose.
Winter is very long, and it snows one place after another.
My hair has never been dyed, and my face has never been powdered.
The flowers on underwear are printed and dyed, which is easy to fade.
Can wash out a big pot of red and a big pot of blue.
Father came back from the army, wearing a green military uniform.
Help my mother in the field. When he walked through corn fields and sorghum fields,
Crops are all over the ground, and all of them have become fathers in military uniforms.
At that time, all the trees covered the roof. All the living people live in the village.
In the house on the ground, all the dead people live outside the village.
In an underground house. Stay with each other and protect our home.
Take a step back in time. Everything is low.
Everything is a virgin. Clouds attract clouds, the sky is higher and the wind blows.
The land is wider. The road between man and heaven is long, and it's Xiu Yuan.
Comments: If we go back in time, we can see ourselves more clearly. It turned out that everything at that time was lovely.
?
"Painting Life" is about you, and you are left blank.
The purple on the paper is you.
Liu Qing of cross-strait confrontation is you.
Flower-shaped wound in spring
it's you
The moon tonight is you.
Running water is you.
The flying white coat is you.
That unpolished ink is you.
Butterfly legend on my chest
it's you
therefore
You're in d major
The richest night is you.
The popular candidate is you.
All the gentle words.
All is you
you
Comment: How many human colors and how many still waters are bright are not worth one? What about you?
?
Untitled in a foreign land:
It's winter now.
I haven't had time yet.
Break completely with the autumn wind
A big piece of fruit
Scattered everywhere
Like my hometown of teenagers.
Squat on your back and say nothing.
Comment: Autumn is over, winter is thick, and I can't hide from my hometown.
?
My father's village hurts when I think about my father's village with my eyes closed.
The field is full of Xanthium sibiricum, thorns and grandma's tears.
Salt and alkali cover seeds, and tired sheep can't find grass.
Only the trembling fence is in my memory
Half of Chai Men, a narrow winding road.
Ancient sunshine
Bake the village dry and thin.
The wilderness is boundless.
Father measured the length of the wilderness with unpredictable and helpless eyes.
Have no distractions.
Father's hoe, bathed in sunshine and moonlight.
Layers of hope shine on the glaze.
Sunlight piles on dad's back every day.
I have been painting all my life.
I can't keep talking about my father's chestnut spine.
Over the years.
I came back to see you after all.
Look from a distance, see
I can't bear to push open the door that has already been mottled.
If I move, I'm afraid you'll hurt all over.
The fruit trees in front of the door are as lush as when I left.
And you, as old as my father.
Comments: hometown, father, a vast gray, not strong enough, can really hurt people.
?
"A cloud, sitting in spring" looks like this.
A cloud, sitting in spring
I moved the old wooden chair.
Shadow, fall in the shadow
Your pen, ancient paper blushes.
Raindrops' favorite apricot flowers
Hypnotize the horses inside me, hypnotize them.
That cloud, motionless.
Cloud, quiet into a handsome seal.
Old wooden chair, lost.
The back of the chair is covered with sparrow's beak.
The pecked crack drilled a spring.
Comments: I really want to be that cloud and look at everything without saying a word.
?
In the evening in Ergon, a horse is drinking water by the river, followed by countless horses.
The Ergon River is in your mouth.
Bite out a scribbled wound
Water waves send shadows far away and bring them closer.
Insects chirp from cracks in horseshoes.
Found a long-lost voice.
Let's sit down.
Watch the sun set slowly.
On your Ma Touqin.
The Blue Butterfly
Its little heartbeat
I remembered
Comments: Ancient, majestic and vast rises from Ergon, and the lens of history unfolds at dusk.
?
The frog in the deep well of the heart of light
In a dark neighborhood
Memory and expectation
Noon and midnight
The sun and the moon
Comments: No matter how dark it is, no matter how deep it is buried, everyone has a hidden bright heart.