The sound of falling original:
I heard the sound falling, and the sound fell vertically from a height. I heard its beginning and end in the room below. I turned around and realized it was behind me. I thought it was on the floor, or between the floor and the ceiling, but nothing was loose and nothing left its position. As I expected, everything is fixed, and the things on the table are irresistibly fixed to the floor by cement nails, ropes, screws or glue.
Yu Jian
The book fixed on the table was fixed on the page, but what was left at eleven twenty? What fell from the wall clock and rattan chair? It must have passed through the bookshelf and the porcelain horse on the top of it. I'm sure it was handed down from a room on the other floor. I heard it go through all kinds of objects.
Light-colored carpets, cement slabs, lime sand and lamp holders pass through wooden boards and cloth, just like secrets passed from one cell to another in the revolutionary era. It is far away from orchards, stones and all spheres. It's not rainy season, nor windy spring. What dropped between 1 1: 20 and 2 1: 00? I clearly heard it fall, which was easily overlooked, because nothing was hurt and nothing was related to the sound.
list
It didn't fall apart like a big piece of glass, nor did it shake around like a meteorite. This sound is clear enough to be heard by one ear, but not enough to be described and demonstrated by another pair of ears. What's that falling? This autumn has something to do with me. It stays behind me in a certain time and space.
About the author: Yu Jian, male, 1954, was born in Kunming on August 8th. College of Literature, Yunnan Normal University. He became famous in the1980s, and was a representative of the third generation of poetry, emphasizing the importance of oral writing. At the age of 20, he began to doodle and write poems, and at the age of 25, he began to work. 1983 and classmates initiated Ginkgo Literature Society to publish Ginkgo biloba.
Yu Jian's ancient poetry works: No.6 Shangyi Street, birds shelter from the rain, all in spring. Thanks to my father, a butterfly died in the rainy season, a tree sheltered from the rain, the sound of falling, the sun only reached the river, and I read frost, a female student.