My poetry, my city

I have a small city.

My city is full of my lover.

They only saw me.

A sad bird

A kite flying far away

My eyes are full of love.

It is also full of scars.

I have a city of poetry

My city is full of poets.

Building the walls of the earth with language

Build the roof of the sky

My poet has always been alone.

Who refuses to live in front of us?

I have a lonely city.

Blowing in the wind

There are clouds under the clouds.

I am in a distant city.

A lonely and unmoved life

You've never been here

Spring will never come.

I have a vigilant city.

Look at the snow-capped mountains, grasslands and flowing sheep.

Look at the desert as affectionate as the ocean.

Look at the plateau, Haizi and bright stars.

The passers-by who watch horses wake up at dawn.

Look at everything, the scenery you have walked through.

I have a broken city.

My lost lover lives in the city.

Her melancholy transcends all poets.

Her hair roots were whitened by the wind and sand.

Plow out undulating hills and valleys

She stood guard outside the city gate.

A grave full of barren poems

Eternity in silence