Author: Haizi
From tomorrow on, I want to be a happy person;
Comb hair, chop wood and travel around the world.
From tomorrow on, I will care about food and vegetables.
Living in a house facing the sea, spring is blooming.
From tomorrow on, write to everyone I love.
Tell them my happiness,
What did the lightning of happiness tell me,
I will distribute it to each of them.
Give every river and mountain a warm name.
Stranger, I will also wish you happiness.
I wish you a bright future!
May you lovers get married!
May you be happy on earth.
I only want to face the sea and spring blossoms.
About Big Wild Goose Pagoda
Author: Han Dong
What can we know?
There are many people coming from afar.
In order to climb up
Be a hero for once
Some people also come for the second time.
more
Those who are not satisfied
Those who gain weight
Climb up.
Be a hero
Then come down.
Walk into this street
vanish in an instant
Some people have the courage to jump.
Open a red flower on the steps.
Then you really become a hero.
heroes of the day
About Big Wild Goose Pagoda
What can we know?
Let's climb up.
Look at the surrounding scenery.
Then come down
No.6 Shangyi Street
Author: Yu Jian
No.6 Shangyi Street
French yellow house
Lao Wu's trousers are hung on the second floor.
Shout your legs and drill your head out with your eyes
The big toilet next door
There is a long queue every morning.
We often come at dusk.
Open the cigarette case and open your mouth.
light up
Yu Jian's painting was nailed to the wall.
Many people disagree.
All they know is Van Gogh.
Old card's shirt was rolled into a rag.
We use it to wipe the juice on our hands.
He is turning over a pornographic book.
Then he fell in love.
Often appear in pairs
Fight here, flirt here
One day they broke up.
My friends are relaxed and happy.
The next day, he sent a wedding invitation.
Everyone dressed up for dinner.
Zhu Xiaoyang's manuscripts are always spread out on the table.
Those words are a mess.
Staring at us like this asshole COP
Facing those red eyes
We must speak vaguely.
Like a popular poem
Li Bo's slippers are pressing Feijia's leather shoes.
He has become famous and has a blue leather membership card.
He often lies on it.
Tell us how to wear shoes.
How to pee and how to wash shorts
How to fry cabbage, how to sleep and so on.
He came back from Beijing on 1982.
This coat is thicker than before.
He told the inside story of the literary world.
Sounds like the chairman of the writers' association
Tea is Lao Wu's electric meter, not Lao Wu's.
The floor belongs to Lao Wu's neighbor.
Wei Shuping whose daughter-in-law is Lao Wu is Lao Wu's.
Mouth phlegm, cigarette butts and air friends are Lao Wu's.
Lao Wu's pen is hidden in the drawer.
Seldom show up
A city without prostitutes
Children and men are witty when talking about women.
Skirts are popular occasionally.
Everybody button up.
At that age, we were all eager to put on skirts.
Refuse to bow.
Yu Jian has not yet become famous.
I was taught a lesson every time.
On an old newspaper
He wrote many meaningful pseudonyms.
There is a person everyone is afraid of.
He works in a certain company.
"He came for a purpose,
Let's not say anything! "
Some days the weather is bad.
There are often bad luck in life.
We will attack Fei Jia's latest work.
Call Zhu Xiaoyang a master
Then this hand touched the wallet.
Prevaricate, evasive.
Eight mouths smiled and stood up at once.
This is an era of wisdom.
Many conversations are recorded.
You can publish a famous book.
It was a busy time.
Many faces appear here.
I asked in the city today.
They are all famous.
It's raining lightly outside
We came to the street.
An empty big toilet
This is the first time he has used it alone.
Some people get married.
Some people became famous.
Some people are going to the west.
Lao Wu is going to the west, too
Everyone calls him a tough guy.
willies
Wu, you stay.
Where am I going tonight?
Arguing and complaining.
Everyone finally separated.
The remaining floor is empty.
Like an empty record that will never play again.
In other places
We often mention No.6 Shangyi Street.
Said it was a day many years later.
The children are coming to visit.
soul
Author: Luo Yihe
Over the ancient city
The sky is blue and rich.
Like a god, an open body.
A kind of quiet door
It contains the pain when I look at it.
The person I love is working and getting married.
Drowning and writing.
Buried in warm ashes
All it takes is a rainstorm.
Their long journey disappeared.
If someone counts the living and feels the life in full bloom.
Who is like us?
Lying on the dry and wide yellow mud floor.
Traces of rutting come and go.
There is no grass around.
There is no grass under it, no pulsating sound.
Only my heart is beating.
I feel myself beating.
A gust of wind blew away the walls and roof.
Dancing on strings connected by hearts
So I vertically penetrated one hundred generations.
So I burned completely.
A man
Deng Xiang
A man is smoking a cigarette. His skin is bronzed and his face is hard but soft. He looked at the end of the field and the dark clouds on the hillside. This wheat field is pure yellow straw with a heavy waist. Without saying a word, the burning land, crimson tide stones and small cypress trees were stuck on it. When I close my eyes, I feel like I'm touching something as rough as bark. Sweat is running down your cheeks, and my eyes are still open. Hold corn with your mouth open, rest under the yellow horn tree, let your woman go up the mountain to mow the grass, and your children sleep in a basket with straw mats. Now, you are thinking about the wet smell of cow dung in the mature season last October. The blue sky broke the straw on the wooden house and sucked up the air. You are lying in a pile of straw, almost submerged by straw. 18660.6886868866 17
Tell a story!
Deng Xiang
Tell a story. Tell a story about the rustling of wheat in Shan Ye, which is golden, pure, unrestrained and pleasant. Little leaves, your lonely hair, are all talking about fire. We are still whispering around the fire. How can heavy rain destroy sparrows' homes one by one? There are also silent tile houses, branches, puddles and overlapping shadows in the moonlight. Talking about sex and happiness. Asphalt roads and frosty grasslands. I kicked the stone home and enjoyed my victory leisurely. Those faces whose eyes are red with fog in the morning are lonely year after year, and there are big red stones+0983.03+0988+0.198608881