Thomas Moore
This is the last rose in summer,
Or a person;
All her beautiful companions,
Has withered and died;
There are no more flowers,
By her side,
Reflect her blushing face,
Sigh with her and grieve with her.
I don't want to see you continue to suffer,
Stay alone on the branch;
Because all the lovely companions are asleep,
Why don't you go with them?
So I put your fragrant petals
Scattered gently on the flower bed,
Let you reunite with your dear friends.
Buried in incense soil.
When a lover's gold ring,
Lose the shine of jewelry,
When that precious friendship withered,
I also want to go with you.
When the loyal heart withers,
My dear person is dead,
Who wants to live alone,
In this bleak world.
"Forget me"
-Shu Ting
Blue flame
Jumping between movable type flowing ice cubes
A small book slipped from my hand.
Haven't landed yet.
I have finished it.
A beautiful elopement
You, so to speak.
Just you?
Meet unexpectedly tomorrow.
Multi-year diary index
Express one's feelings
Silent signature
Or a birthday present preserved by memory.
From the fence of youth to now.
I remember.
This was hundreds of years ago.
Hundreds of years.
The soul sheds its shell again and again.
Why is it always like this?
These three words wake up.
forget-me-not
forget-me-not
Who forgot me?
Who did I forget?
dawn redwood
The water is very cold
calmly
Let the confused clouds follow the clouds.
overlie
sincere
sunset
Outline mottled scales
Go to the shady bay
Light-carrying
Is it a hand that can bounce every time?
Autumn is getting stronger.
There is heaven and water.
Go your own way, but there are many solutions.
Insomnia that night.
Tossing and turning can't escape your long glance.
through the years
I trip over this string every day.
every day
On the picture of your ignorance.
Wake up
Go to sleep.
Until my feet are cold again.
Shui Yi
A warm little southerly wind pierced the stick.
white butterfly
You call me gardenia
know nothing at all
You once had a Metasequoia name.
And the season when the backlight fades.
I won't talk about it.
I don't have to say I'm one of your kind.
In an instant.
White secrets have infiltrated you.
When I sigh
Suddenly reach out your hand and wither.
One minute in the cafe.
Red light. Green light. Horn and bell
Through the French window
On a still face.
Cause a raging fire
noise
Glow dimly
eye
That unfathomable silence
The cup is full of night.
There is no heating.
The bell of the Drum Tower rang dully.
Yi Yi Zhang Chi
Expansion has edges and infinite distance.
The crowded formation of time
Took a woman in batches
Unknown crisis
Follow the road of memory
Feather shadow density
Rational disbelief comforts the soul.
Everything will pass.
Pain and loneliness
This may be the theme of an evening.
But one night,
Belong to oneself
Incandescent lamps and cold eyes
Put reserves into investment
ice carving
The soul and name eager to escape
I can't find a shadow to hide.
the next day
The silent accompaniment of sunshine, all this.
Has slowly turned into
popular song
A style of performance
The trumpet is the lamp of a lonely house in the wilderness.
Saxophone is a light and soft snowflake.
drop
Layer after layer.
Trumpets loom in the thin clouds.
In a pond in Saks.
Frogs sound one after another.
Fireflies bend the grass awn slightly.
The trumpet is tallow in autumn.
The saxophone was torn and surrounded by the swirling wind.
Raise your arms and pray for one last dance in the trunk.
The ground is red.
The trumpet suddenly pulled up.
Saxophone with foggy toes, forest music and deer.
brick by brick
brick by brick
The trumpet jumped out.
Saxophones spread out the ocean.
Wave after wave
It's all metallic sunlight.
Small standard is in sight.
There are many troops in saxophone.
The trumpet is desperate.
saxophone
Ah, saxophone suddenly became dumb.
Trumpet makes yourself rolling in the deep.
Broke the echo of rain and pearls
Saxophone stood on the stone throat and howled.
The sun sets.
I'm here to take your place, sister.
(Akhmatova)
"I'm here to replace you, sister,
By a bonfire deep in the forest.
Your hair is gray and your eyesight is poor.
Autumn brings tears to my eyes.
You no longer remember the songs of birds,
You can't find stars and lightning.
I can't hear the tambourine beating any more,
I know you are afraid of silence. "
"You have come to bury me.
Where are your shovels and shovels?
You only have a flute in your hand.
I won't blame you,
My voice stopped long ago,
Is it worth regretting?
Please put on my clothes,
Forget my worries,
Let the wind blow curly hair.
You smell like cloves,
Walking on a steep road,
In order to be an illuminated person. "
One left and gave it to the other.
Make room, make room.
Stumbling, like a blind man,
Walking on a strange and narrow road.
She seems to see everything nearby.
There's a flame ... with a tambourine in his hand.
She's like a white flag,
And she, like the light of a lighthouse.