1, MC (blind poet) "Many years later, I dreamed that I was the king in hell." When I came to the end of mankind, I also smelled human-I caught the smell and face of this ape when I flashed in the dark days.
I have come to the end of mankind, unlike Dante: there are no shining stars at this time, let alone light. There is no one in front of me and no one behind me. I am alone, with no pioneer and no successor. In this empty sun, I endure fire and ashes.
I have reached the end of mankind, but I still love.
Although I love fire, not this pile of human ashes, I love the fire of the devil and the fire of the sun. I despise or hate all innocent human girls or princes. I have reached the end of mankind and have the smell of human beings-I still love it.
On the cliff at the end of mankind, the first sentence is: everything comes from love.
As soon as I saw this beautiful poem, my wet flame came out of my eyes, and the golden string of the poem blinded my eyes. I walked into a place darker than love. I must tell you how I endured fire and human ashes in the empty sun. I came to the end of human beings and smelled human beings-I still love: everything comes from love.
On the cliff at the end of mankind, I scribbled the second line: Love makes life die.
Truth makes life die, so I heard the glorious third sentence: die because of it!
Better live!
I say this on my own time. I carved it on my head. This is my voice. This is my life. God, you hold me in your hands like ashes. I want to turn ashes into fire in my own poems!
Not death!
Better live!
In my song, the real night is when an ape meets the sun in the middle of the equator.
At that time, I had been sawed by time.
After crossing the town, I executed my father, leaving mankind behind my mother. The story says: it's me. I will come all the way to solve the mystery of mankind, kill my father and marry my mother.
Having children-the mysterious blood-like wreath falls off under the night girl.
I haven't seen anything, experienced anything, experienced nothing, nothing exists, human mother-why is this your body? I'm in chains.
There are a series of blind Homers. We are all sitting on the ground with lyre in our hands. We are all blinded by the truth of existence.
Man, give me blood, give me emptiness. I was the first poet to polish the lights. The emperor still lives tragically in this boundless darkness-my blindness and piano comfort you. And he, who is he?
It's like a skeleton smile in my heart. There is always a reason why we are alive today.
Brothers, there is always a reason why we turn to ashes in the sunset. How many perishable poems have we carved on the perishable wheel?
Who can forget that everyone has his own life-to live to this day, I want to ask, who lives in my life and who lives in my star and my hometown?
Who lives around me, near me and on me?
Who or what kind of things are these?
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