For three years, we have been eagerly waiting for the messenger.
Turn off the monitor
Pines, beaches, stars.
A man carrying a plow or driving a boat,
We're looking for, rediscovering the original seeds,
Let the ancient drama start again.
We went back to our shabby home,
Quadriplegia, broken lips,
Have tasted the bitter and salty sea breeze.
When we woke up, we traveled to the north like a group of strangers.
Beaten by the white wings of a swan, he fell into the fog.
On winter nights, the destroyer Xuefeng from the East angered us.
And in summer, we fell into a long pain.
We brought back
These reliefs are quite rough in art.
four
If the soul rises,
Know yourself.
Must be deeply perspective.
The core of the soul:
Strangers and enemies we met in the mirror.
Companions are good, they never complain,
For work or hunger, or frost,
They have the demeanor of trees and waves.
Can accept ups and downs,
Accept day and night,
Firmly change.
They are good people who spend all day drinking and drinking.
Paddling with head down, sweating,
"Breathe rhythmically,"
Their blood swelled into a tame skin.
Sometimes they sing, their eyelids droop,
When we passed the arid island with fig trees in Babali.
Sail to the western cape where dogs bark endlessly.
They said that if it wants to know itself,
It must examine a soul, and they say,
The oars beat against the sunset.
Golden waves.
We passed many promontories and islands.
The sea leads to another sea, seagulls and seals.
Sometimes unfortunate women cry,
Mourn for their lost child,
While others are looking for Alexander the Great angrily.
And the glory buried at the bottom of Asia.
We moored on the flooded coast of Ye Xiang,
Birds are singing there, and Haibo gives it to sailors.
Leave beautiful and happy memories.
But the voyage is not over.
Their souls are one,
And the stern surface of the bow,
With the rudder footprint,
One is that the sea shattered their shadows.
Those companions died one after another,
Eyelids droop. Their oars
Recorded their habitat on the coast.
Nobody remembers them. This is justice.
5.
We don't know them;
I hope so.
Said we had known them since we were very young.
We met them about twice, and then they became sailors.
Carrying coal, carrying millet, our friend.
Disappeared forever on the other side of the ocean.
Dawn found us sitting under a tired lamp.
Clutching at the paper awkwardly.
Ships, mermaids or shells;
At dusk, we walked to the river.
Because it tells us how to get to the ocean;
At night we live in a cellar full of tar.
Our friend left us,
Maybe we've never met, maybe.
We meet them in our dreams when we sleep.
Still brings us close to the churning sea,
Maybe we are looking for them, because we are looking for another life;
It's above the statue.