The first thing to cover the morning bell
is the pink dance of last night
The death of spring
Hinders the cry of all life< /p>
This is the morning in April
When I am still sorting out
Last night’s dream
The clear call of doves
Watch my heavy eyes
Flap my slender wings
Raise the glorious sun
When the dove leans forward to fly< /p>
Light pours into the cup of heaven and earth
From the cooing sound
Out of the flying posture
Crossing the confused sky
All the mysteries
Riding on the backs and shoulders of pigeons
Breathing the hot wind
The wind always looks like a girl standing tall Walking
makes all the solid walls
collapse in the smile
The moment when the sky is full of smoke
Remembered by pigeons
p>In the wind and rain
The first people to stand
Strive to fly
Unfold dreams and others
The wind passed through my body
Carried away the sound of broken bones
The poetry of the Qin and Han Dynasties
The rhymes of the Tang and Song Dynasties
All in the singing story of the brothel
Those lost weight
Always in the same posture
Standing and walking pigeons
Generally rural On the wheat road
The evening sunshine in the countryside
The dove penetrates the white clouds
It also penetrates all the sadness
Sorrow and sorrow
The long flowers of the previous dynasty are blood
The willows beside the farewell road are still thin
Unbearable
Thousands of years of pursuit by a nation
The miserable journey
Goes into my blood
Becomes the instinctive neighing in my body cavity
From now on I can look at the pigeons
p>All spaces
are filled with this mysterious look
I admire the form of doves
but not praise eagles and others
In the blood of pigeons
flows the most beautiful flight I have ever seen
And thrilling
Flying above the flowery sky
Also hovering in the cemetery
The thoughts of the skinny horse on the ancient road
Gently chewing on the wormwood
The overflowing west wind
When livelihood is ignored
The integrity of doves
The ancient past is ignored
The mood of human beings in the wind and rain
Step by step toward the request for shelter
Praise time
It is the wheat that grows in the fields
Raise your piercing eyes
< p>You can harvestOne after another secular style
The years from forest to forest
What comes is not a song
Doves Always squinting
Looking at this frowning spring
Longing for pigeons to feed
As if in a little order
The beauty of completing the whole process
When I applaud for such a touch
The sound of snapping cannot fly out
The shape of a dove
The eyes of that stunning young girl
Always flicker and fade in the smoke and dust of the world
I can’t compare to them for a moment
The tranquility of a dove on the edge of a wall
< p>The fragrance of wisteria flowers outside the windowAwakens the shepherd god
Raising the whip of home prematurely
The slanting sunlight
< p>Stretch into the body of the doveRequest blood to paint the evening clouds red
And the wings of the dove
are soaked in the color of dusk
Darken the windows
Made my mood
In melancholy
Unable to finish burning