The setting sun crashed down.
Trapped on the ridge, trapped at the end of the world
?
I got red when I got stuck.
Set fire to the horizon
Birds turn to ashes with their eyes.
?
Smoke craned its neck and seemed to see it.
Something we haven't seen.
?
There is a golden flow in Songhua River.
Singing all the way, not changing the Millennium style.
Leaving only the back for Tao Yin.
Fill the ocean of eternal discontent
?
Stand on the left bank and give the right bank to reeds.
For vilen, for frogs with tails.
Give way to the muddy footprints of history
?
Under the poplar, I only gave it a gentle push.
The setting sun fell to the bottom of the river, splashing stars all over the sky.
Author | Wang Guoliang
Wechat official account: Southwest Contemporary Writers Magazine.
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