Poetry

Beautiful things

Come back and tell me

The breeze has ripened the ears of wheat

The ground has made a bed, and the sky floats

Catkins.

My wife prepared hot soup

A word crashed into the house

Changed the beauty of the world

As soon as you came back, you came to me

But my body bones are already thin

With the east wind, I am eight points drunk

I will sleep with my clothes on while leaving two points of cheating heart

This night The rain has knocked on my window again

This night the rain and my lover have been knocking on me for forty years

These beautiful things are also blended into old age

When the wheat can no longer be moved, write it into a poem

When the sheep have wandered far away, ask about its hometown

I can only give you half of my pounding heart

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I will pound the past into honey and give you half of it

I will also give you spring lakes and rainwater

I drink a bowl of porridge in the early morning in my hometown

Chatting about family affairs with the mother who got up early

Talking about a night breeze bathing in the 1980s

A woman shouted out a bolt of lightning in pain

I want to tell you another beautiful thing

The heart of a tired bird, the belly of the sunset

The tree is close to the moon, and the child is sleeping close to me

I I can only be close to your nickname

Hold on to the past

Written on 2020/3/31