End or start
Me, standing here.
Not another person who was killed.
Every time the sun rises,
Let thick shadows be like roads.
whole country
Sad fog
Covered with mottled roofs.
Between houses.
The chimney spewed out a pile of ashes.
The warmth blew away from the bright treetops.
Stay on poor cigarette butts.
Tired hands.
Raise deep dark clouds
In the name of the sun
Darkness plunders openly.
Silence is still the story of the East.
People on ancient murals
Immortality in silence
Die silently
Oh, my land
Why don't you sing any more
Don't even want the rope of the Yellow River tracker.
Like a broken string
It doesn't ring anymore
Is the dark mirror of time.
Always turn your back on you
Leaving only stars and clouds
I'm looking for you
In dreams again and again.
A foggy night or morning.
I look for spring and apple trees.
A wisp of breeze blown by bees
I look for tides on the coast.
Flocks of seagulls were illuminated by the sun on the wave crest.
I look for legends built on walls.
You and my forgotten names
If blood can make you have children,
Tomorrow on the branch.
Ripe fruit
Will leave my color.
it must be admitted that
In the cold white light of death
I'm-I'm shaking.
Who wants to be a meteorite?
Or the cold statue of the victim
Looking at the eternal fire of youth
Pass it on to others.
Even if pigeons land on their shoulders.
I can't feel my temperature and breathing.
They combed their feathers.
And flew away in a hurry.
I'm alone.
I need love.
I long to be in the eyes of my lover
Spend every quiet night
In the shaking of the cradle
Waiting for his son's first call
On the grass and fallen leaves
In every pair of sincere eyes
I write down the poems of life.
This common wish
Now it's the price of being human.
in life
I lied many times.
But always abide by it honestly.
Childhood commitment
So, it has nothing to do with the child's heart
Incompatible world
Never forgive me again
Me, standing here.
Not another person who was killed.
I have no choice.
Where I fell.
There will be another person standing up
The wind is on my shoulder.
There are twinkling stars in the wind.
Maybe one day.
The sun became a shrinking garland.
hold one's own
Every immortal warrior
In front of a tombstone that grows like a forest
Crow, fragments of the night
Drifting in disorder