Miss the days on the shoulders of the Tang people.
Recite a poem while sitting or standing.
A boatman, a civilian worker or a pawn
The leaves have turned green.
The green leaves are dazzling.
A group of girls who are washing clothes are sitting by the stream washing leaves.
Wash love songs and a lot of poems.
Then, then, throw it away, throw it away.
Throw it out of braid.
Throw away the poem and start to miss it.
Song people searched all the way and searched the road of Yao and Shun era.
I didn't find anything.
So I became depressed.
"Women are not allowed to leave the boudoir."
Song people said that the poem that was thrown away could not be found.
Who is in charge?
Poetry was slow for a while.
Women are classical.
Classical women are not romantic.
No one is a poem.
For a long time after that,
The poet began to change careers and tell some stories.
Some stories about poetry
The story begins to dream. I can't even wake up in my dreams.
Missionaries preach some dreams.
Poetry began to dance.
Dance Carmen Chacha Grass.
I woke up tired of jumping.
No, no denial.
Poetry also denies it.
Everything began to be hazy, poetic politics.
Repair bridges, roads, houses and ivory towers.
Repair the crack in the glass.
Poetry is broken, completely broken.
From withered trees to grass.
Watch the sunset on the shore.
The ship is rocking.
Broken poems are inferior products.
I was so poor that I lay down without clothes and some poems.
Lying in a dream, talking in a dream, whispering.
Some poems are shirtless first.
After that, I didn't even have any stripper clothes.
Some people are sunbathing.
Some people are dancing naked.
The mother in the poem is crying, crying in the depths of the thatched grass.
Mending poetry is like mending a bird's wound.
I hope he is a bird, a migratory bird.
I left this fall.
Will come back next spring.