You said if I wanted to
M: I will. I will use my not broad shoulders and a loyal heart working on the plateau to hold up a sky that will never be wronged for you.
Woman: There is no wronged sky. Do you want it or not?
M: Yes, if you like.
Woman: I have.
Full text: Male: Twenty-two years old, I climbed out of the swamp of youth, like a bruised lyre, silent in the theme of tears, and you came.
Woman: I walk towards you.
Your eyes are as bright as hyacinthus orientalis.
Woman: You mean my eyes.
M: Wipe the bare loneliness.
Woman: Loneliness, why are you always lonely?
Really?
Woman: Really?
M: The first time.
Woman: Is this the first time?
Man: The sun is very warm.
Woman: It's warm.
Man: Gently.
Woman: Gently.
Man: Hold me.
Woman: Did I hug you?
So there is no desire to freeze the past.
W: I picked up my song, picked up a string of lost notes and walked into a spring evening.
Man: A dusk, a wrinkle-free dusk, a station that no longer stands at dusk.
Woman: Never stand up again, never stand up again.
Man: On that night in April, there were no stars and no moon.
W: It's an ordinary night without the stars and the moon.
Man: I traded my experience in the swamp for your past story. No one can forget it. The swamp is so muddy and the story is so sad. At this time, you are wet in my retina.
W: I'm looking through a book of poems on my knee. It's Whitman's.
Man: I think you are a pure white bird.
W: I was thinking, what are you thinking?
M: I know that this beautiful cage has imprisoned you and nurtured your constant loneliness and beautiful silence.
Woman: Yes, I imprisoned you and raised you.
M: I know, you didn't expect it to rain again in the morning when you first started flying. I know the rain has wet feathers, heavy wings and broken your heart.
Woman: Yes, the rain broke my heart.
Man: Don't you notice?
Woman: Are you looking at me?
My hot and humid pulse is applying for an unspeakable impulse.
Woman: I really want to lift my eyes and look at you.
Man: But you didn't look up.
Woman: I didn't look up. I am still looking through Whitman's poems.
Man: I know I'm not a stone or a dam.
Woman: Not a stone, not a dam.
There is no solid tree to rely on.
Woman: Not a solid tree.
M: But if you like.
You said if I wanted to
M: I will. I will use my not broad shoulders and a loyal heart working on the plateau to hold up a sky that will never be wronged for you.
Woman: There is no wronged sky. Do you want it or not?
M: Yes, if you like.
Woman: I have.
(Postscript: A poem carefully copied in my diary when I was a sophomore. This is one of the obscure poems popular on campus in the early 1990s. Who is the author? I don't know. I seemed to like this feeling at that time. On a rainy winter night, I read every sentence carefully and felt a little like crying. That's what the diary says. I don't feel this way now.