Trees make salt in the land.
A tree fell down.
Become a ladder
The sea level is rising.
The ocean is constantly
Leave us
Standing on the dove and Bai Ou.
Emission cloud
Every tree occupies
Latitude and longitude of soul
The starting point of flight
Never come back
Bronze burns in salt.
White salt
Sharpen it
That painful sword awn
Hold high your lonely hands
Raise it to the dawn of today
The eyes of today
The forest still sliding towards the grave
Our stove is in a bronze tripod.
In the east farther than the stars
in Asia
Zaimaimang
Black and pure ore iron stood up from the silence.
Grow a wide river
That's the element of gold and water.
In the boundless womb
Weeds are burning.
The tree is burning.
Everything is burning.
have sexual intercourse
Mouth is like God.
Look up at the scarlet sky
I am a simple materialist.
I live, and I live is heaven.
We brought bundles of bronze.
Poems and inscriptions on bronzes
The smoke is in our hands.
Farmer irrigation
Sing with a hoe
In the wheat awn
Men and women
Approaching from both ends of the land
There is no other image.
Create the dawn from the darkness
Dawn is silent in the mother's womb.
Silence during the outbreak
The universe will not let us go.
Mom's stomach won't let us go.
We are just a small root in Asia.
We can grow into any mineral iron.
Can grow into songs
Regenerative string
Forget too much
buzzard
Beast, civilization
How shameless is armor?
Let him die in the ashes
Give him a chance to think.
Forgive them
Forgive those comforts
everlasting
Peace and war negotiations
Every piece of mud
Is devouring the soul.
Everyone has a mouth to eat them
Eat today and tomorrow.
Pain is not in our minds.
The ocean is indifferent to all disasters.
It has its own paradise.
Fish swim in a dream.
It has its own wings.
There are ways to find fire in seawater.
Its eggs can't be copied.
It has only one pearl.
Pearls spit out from the soil.
The ancient land wakes up again and again.
Who is simulating its distant cry?
You can lie in the mountains.
The sea flows from one end of the land to the other.
The flying pigeon brought a grass seed.
Heaven above grass seeds
The lost song
May the birth of the sun be delayed.
The sun sings on the ladder.
The baby opened his eyes.
The baby is on the hill at the top of the grass.
Who cooks with my loneliness?
This is a high mountain.
In the dark, at dawn
Haizi, your wheat field will be torn down tonight.
I copied your bronze song.
I climbed your mountain.
See the same sun
My language is the language of the king.
This is your song of heaven.
I'm outside your heaven.
See the sky on the earth
Those broken white clouds
As the song falls,
In our bronze tripod
In our Asia
In our death,
This is a song, a song of heaven.
The world is singing, singing