People who can't see the sun after death are unfortunate people.
They are a group of angels in white robes with their heads cut off.
Walking up and down the path of the monastery sadly
And sing in a low voice, this sound can be achieved.
Under the eaves of the tower, crows have small ears the size of pinholes.
Black sheep who dream of feces on the road.
I can see thick poplars like hair bundles. I am.
Ugly whip
Whip these images of death under the curse.
It's a flag, flying in the dark.
After death, who can see sunshine and life again?
As a solemn substitute, it has been waiting for a long time.
Bright eyes full of brown wool.
It can be starlight at night.
We can't see the fire splashing in the lava after death.
We can't dream of poetry after death.
It's like the clever entrance of a magic bottle.
Flying insects and cleft seeds
Can make us dream of poetry, and poetry.
The code word is that you can't see the sun after death.
1990-7- 12