More than a dozen modern poems about winter.

Even after a thousand years.

Canal water will definitely flow into winter.

The river is clear and cold.

Slow flow velocity

I am floating on this river.

Thick soil, trees and tall buildings on the shore.

seemingly

Love to sink more than I do

This burning flame

The wine that spread in this drop of water

This bleeding white bone

I've been dead for years.

Bodies scattered and rotted.

This bone that escaped the clutches of time

Still alive for me

He has been polished by thoughts.

White translucent

I like hard porcelain, and I like silent porcelain.

Like a water ghost swimming.

He can cross a river on his body.

Think of watching as walking.

On the edge of the canal, there is a swaying meadow.

I've been standing for a long time.

The grass is very careful

Wrapped in bones flowing down the river

It's like holding a fragile porcelain.

Sweep away water vapor

What she clung to was only bigger than ashes.

memory