< 1 >
When I look back again,
The one in the back.
Yao Ming waved his hand for a long time.
but
Still nothing.
Only the leaves on those trees in the back.
In the wind
Show off gently
< 2 >
In these quiet days, I always look out of the window silently.
Look at that bare tree. It's a single old man who spends the winter.
My frozen wound is still slowly bleeding.
Lonely branches are bare and scattered in the cold breeze.
The roots are full of confusion.
A few finches are jumping under the eaves, looking here from time to time.
But never far from their warm home.
The sun is always pale in the dignified sky.
A monotonous and silent sigh over and over again
After shaking your face again and again, there is nothing left.
< 3 >
There are still seven or eight stars scattered on the hay that has not fallen for a long time.
A bird lay quietly in the grass, as if it had been dead for a long time.
I walked through this place, but I couldn't find my deep mark.
The clear river is covered with leaves of all sizes.
Many traps were laid leisurely in a wide valley.
Step on the accumulated fallen leaves carefully.
Find the way with a particularly gentle voice.
Sometimes you will find the shell casings left by old hunters in the years.
I suddenly realized that it was originally composed of some beautiful petals.
Steel plate
< 4 >
Is it to pray for the song of the wind again for the yellow land that has been dry for ten thousand years?
Is it for the end of that song to cross your wandering soul again?
Is it for the soul to surpass a banana that was originally far away from the jungle a few years ago?
Is it because of that unique banana that it continues to wander in the empty fantasy world?
Day after day, I was soaked in rain and exhausted by the scorching sun.
Day after day, dusty footprints make the ground fuzzy.
How many times have tears filled the sea and Wang Yang?
The environment is getting worse and worse, and we can't hit a brand-new human being.
The bitterness and saltiness of past lives still surround the dam you stepped on.
< 5 >
Sitting by the river, sitting on the rough black beach.
I'm thinking about that vast wasteland and yellow mud again.
I have been away from home for a long time, and there is nothing left.
The most disgusting silence is easygoing.
Let the footsteps of the years drift the black floating soil into a blank.
The two mouths finally became a muddled dead sea.
After millions of storms, it is still immortal silence.
< 6 >
Laughter came from a distance.
Flip the pages on the table with the wind.
It's like you're approaching through the distant waves.
This is a lotus flower that blooms in the snowfield in winter. . . . . .
youth
Those infinite memories
Slip out of the track of life quietly
Like a gap in the table.
From this year to next year
year after year
Record happiness and sadness
Confirmed the joys and sorrows.
Left traces of our growth.