1
This year I can never forget
This year how much I miss my mother who just passed away
Every time I see The water ladle by the well reminds me of her wine gourd-like breasts
I can't help but think of this whenever I walk drunkenly on the way home, holding on to the big tree beside the road
< p> When I was a toddler, I must have held her arm tightly like thisNow that I have grown up, I am still staggering on the road of life, and she is no longer there You can’t come to me either
2
This year, every time I wake up from a drunken dream
I can no longer touch myself That numb head
It turned out that it had turned into a bronze clay pot
It had been carried by an Asian peasant woman and walked towards the barren countryside
My dream that will never come again is the gradually worn pattern on the clay pot
My dream that will never come again is the gradually worn pattern on the clay pot
3
This year I often drank from late at night until dawn
I often drank from lifting the moon to drinking up all the wine drops in the stars
But, When I looked at the dried ginseng in the bottle
It was like seeing my bones after death
At that time, I would reach out from the grave The jujube thorns without a bit of meat
pull the clothes of passers-by and talk to them about love, life and death
At that time, I will start from the bottom of the cup. The last little tears dripped from the deep-set eye sockets
Because, I firmly believe that I will always be in this dear land
The vomiting poem is like vomiting out blossoms. The choking flower
That spring drunkard.