I wasted my years and felt very tired.
Like all poets who dream of horses.
Time flies, not a drop of water remains. A horse died.
-Haizi's Motherland, or Dreams for Horses
In those years of wandering in the rivers and lakes
I neglected pastoral poetry and accomplished nothing.
From the Oriental Feast of Spending Youth
I only bring back the empty name posted on the bottle.
-Black Spring "When I Come Back in Late Autumn"
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The above are two excerpts. In fact, there are not many poems on this subject. Look at the following poem:
windmill
Author: Duoduo
The eternal wheel is turning.
I can't turn back.
Like a decadent building paralyzed in the field.
I am longing for the arrival of strong winds;
What's worse than pain
Is rumbling, ruling my mind.
Lightning galloped in the sky.
The sky is like a stone, dreaming after it collapses.
The tail is anxious on the ass
Cattle and sheep, huddled together, fled.
It is these things that pile up into memories.
Let me put the dark roar back
Embrace yourself ...
We are unlucky, our master.
Standing at the end of a field made of meat
With a terrible face, continue to applaud the storm-