The body of the cloud and the body of the sun are folded and embraced on the body of the earth.
What is old age?
The seedlings grow in two directions, the dawn of childhood and the night of death.
What is a dream?
Reality has risen to the point of fantasy.
What is hope?
Describe death in the language of life.
What is a rose?
Long enough to be beheaded.
What is the sky?
You just climbed the ladder when it suddenly broke.
What is a dream?
A hungry man who keeps knocking on the door of reality.
What is meaning?
Meaningless beginning and end.
Time is the wind, blowing from the direction of death.
Death comes from behind, even if it seems to come from the front, it only belongs to life.
Despair has fingers, but it can only catch dead butterflies.
More time than desert, less time than trees.
Can you understand me: I am as deep and far away as life. The wind lives on my wish and the soldering iron is on my tongue.
How can you be sure of my love, hate, hatred and understanding? Can you understand me: the sun is the color of my eyes, and ice and snow are the color of my steps.
The sky of words cannot hold the beauty of the body.
You will see my poetry become the king of light, and you are my light, shining in my words.
Invisible world, you can feel the world.
Tired of being down and out, I am always there, filling the lake of hope.
Spring said: even I am lost in every minute I waste.
I live between clouds and sparks, in a growing stone, in a book that teaches secrets and depravity.
There is no heaven behind me, no depravity, and I erase the language of sin.
I let myself rule and become the king of the wind.
However, I am alive, and every branch from the valley and the tree of years is a flame on my forehead, devouring the earth that protects me.
I am a traitor. I sold my life to this cursed road. I am a master of betrayal.
I want to find the last feather in my blind eyes and write dusty poems against the grass and autumn.
The city is disintegrating, the earth is a column of dust, and only poetry knows how to marry this sky.
Tongue rusts because of talking too much, and eyes rust because of dreaming too little.
Sometimes, the most wonderful lamp is not to see the light clearly, but to see the shadow clearly.
Everything will die except human beings. He faced death.
Flowers are the season in the eyes, and fragrance is the season in the heart.
The reality of T City is a kind of climate, the form is life, but the content is death.
Your body is a rose on your road, a rose that is dying and blooming at the same time.
The poet's best grave is the sky of his words.
Every mistake I make is to pay tribute to the innocence of the sun.
The silence of the rose is a call, and it is not the ears that hear it, but the eyes.
If there must be sadness, tell your sadness and let it hold a bunch of roses forever. Rose travel, the most beautiful place is the territory in your eyes.
Leaves fall from trees, like earrings, from the ears of the wind.
Dreams will grow up, but in the direction of childhood.
A rose is a corner when it is sad and a green light when it is happy.
I walk-one foot in the ashes, one foot on the edge of time.