Lots of dreams, making noise at dusk.
when the former dreams crowd out the former ones, the latter dreams drive them away.
The dream before going is as black as ink, and the dream after going is as black as ink; It's like saying, "Look at my good color."
the color is good, but I don't know it;
and I don't know, who is speaking?
I don't know in the dark, but I have a fever and a headache.
you come, you come! A clear dream.
who brought patches of green and laid them by the path?
who stole layers of yellow to decorate the hills?
who picked white flowers and scattered them on the lake?
Who played the harpsichord to make the stream Yan Ni and sing?
who set the peace free and let the geese fly freely?
who planted hope and let it grow in the field?
Mother Yan, who is busy making a nest, flies around, and she will tell you,
The chick that broke out of its shell staggered into the sunshine without opening its eyes,
The red kite that kissed the blue sky flew up and down, and she will tell you,
The duckling jumped into the pond to chase, play and ripple happily, and
The tender wicker swaying in the wind, and she will tell you.
Butterfly's beautiful wings are flashing on the blossom blown by the warm spring breeze.
Today we are the rising sun,
Tomorrow our heart will be higher than the sky,
Today we will be a trickle,
Tomorrow we will become a big river, roaring and roaring
Today we will be an eagle out of its nest, and
Tomorrow we will fly very high.
Today we are little flowers in bud,
Tomorrow will be colorful and enchanting.
We are who we are.
The red scarf burns on the chest.
Look at tomorrow.
We will lift mountains, stir up rivers, and
lift up the modern motherland.
Fly to the golden goal ...
Buds are your years
Wrapped in green leaves
Charming
Like a smile in your sleep
Spring is your holiday
Singing is full of your schoolbag
Take out a song to hang on your mouth
Jumping
Prosperity is yours. And to realize
Ah, you are the earliest festival of mankind
and the most permanent expectation of mankind
You are the earliest enlightenment of mankind
and the greatest hope of mankind
Who has seen the wind? You didn't, and neither can I.
but when the leaves on the branches are rustling and shaking, the wind is passing by.
who has seen the wind? You didn't, and I didn't.
but when the leaves hang down their faces, the wind is blowing.
I want to know why the grass is green and why the wind is always invisible.
who taught birds to build nests, and who told trees to stand and rest?
when the moon is no longer round, where can I find the missing piece?
who lit the sleeping stars? And make the stars twinkle?
who painted colorful rainbows in the air and hung those furry clouds so high?
I'm busy,
I'm busy,
I'm busy shaking the torch,
I'm busy sculpting myself,
I'm busy playing the marching cymbals,
I'm busy blowing the reed flute to welcome the spring,
I'm busy making happy forecasts,
I'm busy interviewing the truth,
Until one day I die,
Like a tail color sleeping in a smiling pond,
I will turn off the lights and have a rest,
I will have a beautiful completion,
like a book of poems;
And the land that covers me,
is the cover of the poetry collection.
I am busy,
I am busy.
1 dusk
Miller's midnight bell on the wall was rung by my silence,
The holy one who rode a donkey to Jerusalem to get rid of cold has not returned yet.
Ignore the sly wink of the lamp.
Please tell me: Who lit the first match?
No.2
Wheels of cars, hooves of horses, flashing horns and hunting flags,
The tireless will is forward.
why complain about the innocent shoes?
you! A burnt-out torch dries up the fish in the pond.
3 Expectation
Every bright silver raindrop is a beating word,
The frantic lightning is the title of a group of people.
Wake up from the threshold of the night, turn off the black cat of dreams,
Listen to the rolling thunder and report the sunny news for me.
4 Clouds
Don't walk on my blue sky roof again [
My pigeon once told you: I'm not a believer in gallery school.
Watch how I mistreat this shovel-shaped queen with a pencil sharpener, and
You will understand that the fruit should ripen quickly this season.
5 summer
white heat. White heat. The voice of the pioneer's call.
down. Descending. The weight of the love of the blood bearer.
When the phoenix is flying into the blazing fire,
Why should I sleep in the shade of the cross to enjoy the cool?
6 birds
flew into the poems of old Indian poets and jumped on the palm of the Persian Queen.
What about me? Silence is like a dumb person, stupid and wingless.
Aristophanes once brought his vision into the theater,
The penguin country of France has no harbor where I docked.
7 diaries
Yesterday, Tan. Close the narrow door of the soul,
Schiller's robber at the banquet, Nietzsche's superman.
it's sunny today. Polish the eyes of the camera,
shoot Van Gogh? The sunflower of Ku Ju, the spring of Rodin.
8 Hunting
There are hunters with guns in the mountain village.
Owls should not laugh wildly.
There are girls who suck water in the desert.
Camel bell, please don't tell your loneliness and sorrow.
9 confession
Zantigan's underground kiln can't be imprisoned. My belief
It is counterfeit coin makers who are always afraid of the sun.
On the day of judgment, the prodigal son will crawl home.
If the wheat doesn't die, where can we harvest the land grain?
1 tears
The lullaby injected too much haze into the vein at the cradle.
I didn't realize that I was a shell abandoned by the sea until I woke up today.
A hand that has kissed the earth cannot hold an elegant song decorated with pearls.
The fountain of this poem is from the Nile of pain.
homesickness
In the past, I was a king, happy and rich, and
the princess next door was my beautiful wife.
We harvest the pearls of sorghum, the precious stones of corn,
and the golden paper hanging on the old elm tree.
what about now? Now I am as poor as a church mouse.
Pop songs and neon lights make my mind anemic.
standing on the street of insanity,
I don't know where to go.