Poetry about fear.

Awakening of Insects

Modern feiya

At night, at seven o'clock, the rain and lightning outside the window illuminate everything.

Followed by thunder, spring thunder, the first thunder, crisp and sudden,

I heard it, surprised and happy, and ran to the window.

I just want to see the sky thunder after winter.

Looks like it. The wind is blowing and the rain is getting heavier and heavier.

The pale green curtains floated up and I looked back.

In the dark room, I seem to see one.

Angry people came among us, thick and tall,

Wearing an old blue cloth, it seems to say, "I am from

The icy seabed and rocks surfaced,

Into the empty night, clouds, everything

It's all dirty when people

Out of the closed winter,

The wind messed up all their hair.

On the other hand, I'd rather stay at the top of the mountain.

You can roll from one place to another,

I sing, dance and twist my ass, so I'm afraid.

How to make a fool of yourself in public?

I don't want you, in a rare

Keep grace and silence in front of spring. "

It's early April and it's still raining. I remember two days ago.

When I returned to my hometown, the ground was wet.

On the way to the suburbs, it was fat and beautiful.

Pumpkin seedlings grow from vegetable fields,

A large flock of swallows, in an arc, others,

Line up like a group, waiting for some kind of work.

Country people are standing on high telephone poles,

They fly, sing, tilt their heads,

I was so happy that I ignored us on the road like air, as if to say, "It's beautiful,

What a good season, so many bugs,

It comes out of the ground and can't be eaten. "