Your old beggar at night, the perfume girl waiting for guests in front of the hotel,
A poor family lives in your low room, and a sloppy woman picks up coal on the tracks.
The little country girl who stole iron in your factory.
How many people have been ravaged by your disappearing brilliance?
The oppression of businessmen, officials, and timid people who dare not speak shocked the hotel.
The iron anchor on the shore is soaked with the sadness of the years,
Interrupt, it's too long, make it bigger!
Cry, to save glory, to be naked by the river. Little boy,
The mud on his face is smiling and approaching our mixed hearts.
Singing-there is no distance, but the moon shines on the same people.
I can't go, we can't go, just like heaven and earth.
Chapter two: the sad chapter of Chinese and foreign classical modern poetry. Nothing can turn me into the Ganges.
Can calm this ancient death,
Can remove the moisture of a dynasty,
I think of Plato and seneca's speeches.
Confucius' lobbying, Laozi's silence,
I think of the lecture hall at dusk and the pure temple.
The silence of a sword is like the silence of a hymn.
Death, love and time have all become.
One question after another, but not the last,
I think of the silence of dawn and the perfection of sunset.
No words, really pure.
No job can make me forget the night,
Forget my stupidity and my noisy life.
Chapter three: The endless journey in the classic chapters of Chinese and foreign modern poetry. Planes are big birds today.
It's a bridge, a shoe,
A sedan chair fell from the sky,
From n city to g city, there is no longer a distance.
The so-called long life, forever,
The smell, as short as a skirt slipping,
When you pour out from the depths of the TV screen that arrives in the lobby,
There's no voyeurism in the dark,
I see your naked face like snow between mountains,
Just like I watched your back disappear from the security checkpoint not long ago,
It's like turning back here,
In the morning, you dress in front of the mirror,
This is usually followed by this action,
"It's like I've always been here,
Off the ground, back to the ground. "
The hermit crab's new house has no lighting.
A dress with a waist is like two doors.
Was gently opened,
Let you peel off like bamboo shoots,
"Apples seem to be in autumn."
Connecting yesterday and today,
Memory and reality are a narrow zipper,
The next day, the modern version of the old fable was staged again.
The tortoise and the white rabbit race,
Which of us arrives at the destination first?
When the bus is moving slowly and hard,
You float on my head like a blank sheet of paper,
The plane flew over the low roof of the railway station again.
Chapter 4: The dormant volcano experienced the deepest night.
Endured the cruelest light,
It remembers the last time it was burned by a bird song.
The root of the tree slowly plunged into the heart,
It learns to be cruel to itself,
A thousand mouths used to be a thousand incisions,
Blood, shouting and begging,
The serenity of sinking into the sediment,
Those bright red wings were cut off by time,
Rot into black soil,
Floating in the dusk like a cloud,
Another sunflower ripened on the horizon and swept over the mountains.
As big as an eagle, 1000 mouths, now 1000 eyes,
It stared at the gravel under its feet,
It's windy there,
Nesting in basalt caves with water,
Cherish the solar waves 10,000 years ago,
Slap the moss-covered cliff violently,
The whole blue sky is shrouded in dreams,
Take it as a ruler to measure silence and light,
It wakes up in a deep sleep,
Ruthless to myself, white smoke spread on the top of the mountain,
Pine needles grow upward, green lightning,
Destroying winter is its lightest breath,
Long wait: that roar,
The fear that is destined to tremble,
Above the beauty of everything,
Let the earth revel,
Like a deer licking salt and alkali,
Endure secretly burning your own flame,
A heart,
A thousand wishes to fly.