I will be calm at the last minute;
The good soul in charge of death,
Will knock knock mei, whispered:
"Well, go to the haunted house! ……"
Like a dream in a winter night.
Come to a quiet, comfortable and happy place,
Wearing a poppy crown on his head,
A crooked hand, a lazy stick ...
(This is the last paragraph)
The North Island of Hongsailboat is full of broken walls. How do street lamps that extend from the foot and slide into the pupil get out? It's not a star. I don't want to comfort you. The trembling maple leaves are full of lies about spring. Sunbirds from the tropics did not fall on our trees, and the forest fire behind them was just a dusty dusk. If the earth has frozen, let's face the warm current and go to the sea. If the reef is our future image, let's face the sea and watch the sunset. No, burning desire is burning desire, we just want to sail quietly. You have long hair that floats. I have arms, and I can lift them straight. Everything is fate. Everything is smoke. Everything is the beginning without an end. Everything is fleeting. Everything is in pursuit of happiness. Nothing is a smile. Nothing is pain. Everything is repeating itself. Everything is the first time. Everything is in my heart. Everything is in my dream. All hopes are annotated. All faiths groan. All the explosions were quiet for a moment. All deaths have long-lasting repercussions.
Cen Can's "Like a strong wind in spring, it blows at night and blows open the petals of ten thousand pear trees".
Brecht's memory of Marianne
Loka's Knight's Song