This is the lap dance last night.
The death of spring
Stopped all the crying of life
This is the morning of April.
While I was still tidying up
Last night's dream
The clear cry of pigeons
Polish my heavy eyes
Flap your slender wings.
Raise the brilliant sun
When pigeons bend over and fly.
Light pours into the cup of heaven and earth.
From the cooing sound
Get out of the flying posture
Through the lost sky
All the secrets
Riding on the back of a pigeon.
Blow a hot wind
The wind always walks with a girl's pretty posture.
Build all the strong walls
Collapse in a smile
A vague moment
Be remembered by pigeons
In the wind and rain
The first group of people to stand up
Try to fly.
Expand dreams and other things
But the wind passes through my body.
Take away the sound of fracture
Ci and Fu in Qin and Han Dynasties
Tangsongyun
It's all in the song of brothel.
Thin.
Always keep an attitude.
Pigeons standing and walking
On McDonnell Douglas.
Stay alone in the pastoral sunset
Pigeons pierce white clouds.
It will penetrate everything.
depressed
The long flower of the previous dynasty was blood
The willows beside the farewell road are still thin.
insufferable
For thousands of years, a nation has been chasing after it.
Tragic journey
Walk into my blood
It became an instinctive scream in my body cavity.
From then on, I can watch pigeons.
All the space
Full of this mysterious appearance.
I admire the shape of pigeons.
Instead of praising eagles and others
In the pigeon's blood
I haven't seen anything.
The most beautiful flight
Shocking.
Feiyue Huayu
Also dancing in the graveyard
Take the heart of the ancient road and thin horse
Chew wormwood gently.
Overflowing westerly wind
When livelihoods are neglected
The integrity of pigeons
Ignore ancient times
The human mood in the storm
Seek asylum step by step.
Praise time
Is the wheat that grows in the ground.
Raise your cold eyes
You can harvest it.
The secular custom of crop after crop.
The years from forest to forest
This is not a song.
Pigeons always squint.
Look at this frowny spring.
Yearning for feeding pigeons.
As if in a poem
The beauty of completing the whole process
When I applaud such a move,
The snapping sound can't fly out.
The shape of a pigeon
The eyes of that dusty woman
Always die in the smoke of the world
Let me wait a moment.
The tranquility of the pigeon side wall
The smell of wisteria outside the window
Wake up the shepherd's god
Raise the whip home too early
A series of oblique sunlight
Pull into the pigeon's body
Begging for blood and painting red night clouds
And the wings of pigeons
Soak in the dusk
Darken the window.
Let my mood
Melancholy
Incomplete combustion