Echo author: empty
The echo of footsteps in the chaos
A blazing flame of flashing power
When stepping into the trap of countless language weaving
Weak-willed people will bend over and wait and see, eager to leave.
From this morning's dreary wishes
A trace of comfort grew on the cold stone.
We strode forward with laughter.
Harvest season for every comedian.
It is also decorated with the darkness and numbness in the festival.
We trudged slowly on the wetland.
Listen to the voice of fate and knock on the door of the body.
Keep submitting the meaning of your initial commitment.
The history of your smile also proves your fragile past.
Continue to write in the smoke of silence
It's like seeing a child passing by the door with a dirty puppy.
Uncovered thoughts pass through painful cracks in the head.
Those wounded desires worry about it all the time.
Tie you to both ends of the tour.
Shuttle the soul
After fleeing the chaos.
Tired of flapping bat wings in the dark.
Give you your last wish, the heavy shackles on it.
Looking up at the fragments of light
Its story sometimes seems so irrelevant.
The growth of things has another set of mature passwords.
They are completely immersed in dark mud or smelly liquid.
There is a story about you in my body today.
Like blooming flowers on the earth dotted with warm spring.
Those rumors have lost their innocence and shyness.
Nude shows erotic vertigo, and the rest is boring.
They stood on the flowing river bank.
Hands hunched over each other's only bones.
Wait for the best opportunity to go with the flow.
It's noon, dusk and evening.
Countless birds flew out of the open felt cloth wrapped around their bodies.
Pigeons and crows mingled above the flat box.
There is always smoke in silence.
At the moment of chaos, I was so confused that there were birds everywhere.
The hovering sound is like a whine from a bleeding wound.
Flip through dusty books.
Romance in the book is as melancholy as gloomy weather.
Eye contact fatigue
At the moment of intoxication and tranquility, it crawls on the clean snow like a penguin.
Hoarse voice, like snowflakes in the sky.
The fragile nerves are looking for footprints with residual temperature in the snow.
They wait in their nests for darkness to surround them.
No matter where your hand once pointed.
No matter how vainly you cry at a dead bird.
No matter how many beautiful nudes are buried by the energy of the night.
The twigs on the soil slope swayed in the wind.
Explain the secret customs of darkness
Just like the song of the blowing wind will inject the bricks left over from history.
We are still following our footsteps.
Step on the air-dried body
Strolling under the wandering clock
Stepping through the sadness and fragrance woven by countless beautiful words
My heart is no longer eager.
echo
Liu Bannong
one
He looked at the white sheep on the grass.
Eat slowly.
He is in a dark building.
The edge of the forest,
Doing nothing.
The breeze stirred the rain on the tree,
Cold dripped on his head.
He listened to the bell ringing around the sheep's neck.
Sing in a low voice
He was holding a piccolo,
In response to the murmur of running water,
Sob and blow.
He sang and blew,
Think for a long time;
He sighed slightly;
His fiery tears,
Flowing quietly.
two
It should be as sweet as a kiss.
Should there be a kiss as sweet as honey?
what's up ……
Where is it? ……
The sea there,
Infinite wave edge,
Vertical, horizontal,
Expand, fold,
Turn around, roll, ...
I'm on this wave,
Where is she? ……
I seem to see her,
Rose's lips,
White jade-like body, ...
It's just that my eyes are too dull,
I didn't see the face,
She was immersed in tears of shame,
Bury it silently.
In the dark Woods!
I really can't see through you,
I really see through you!
I don't want you in the wind.
What to say to me;
I am weak, too,
You can't hook the crocodile's cheek,
You can't wear a crocodile's nose,
I can't let it beg me,
Can't let it flatter me;
I'm just asking,
Where is she?
"there?" That's what the echo said
Alas! The water in the stream,
Who are you winking at?
Boring grass, how do you spend it every year?
Make clothes for the grave?
Why don't you go? -Live! ——
Alive -Let's go! ——
This is an ancient tomb,
Here are the bones of the deceased;
There is a new grave,
This is a dead man who is going to become a bone.
You! -What about you?
"What's the matter with you?" -the answer is this.
Flowing quietly;
He sighed slightly;
He thought about it leisurely;
He is still blowing, singing:
He still has a piccolo,
In response to the murmur of running water,
Whoops blowing;
He is still listening to the bells around the sheep's neck.
Sing in a low voice
The breeze stirred the rain on the tree,
Cold drops fell on his head;
He is still in this dark building.
The edge of the forest,
Doing nothing.
He is still full of hope,
Watching Aries on the lazy green grass,
Eat slowly.
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