Blackbird is a symbol of misfortune. When people walk through a secluded alley and inadvertently see its silhouette, or hear its dry cry, they will spit in disgust, lower their eyebrows and scurry past it, as if the sooner they escape, the better.
In the dream, the blackbird is an unpleasant introduction to the next day.
I know an old woman who holds the rosary devoutly, looks at herself with her eyes and walks slowly on her short journey.
"ah? Nothing! Oh! Peace. "
She read the Buddha's name in a trembling voice with fear, and her eyes were full of tears, watching a black bird pass over her head and fly to the lonely sky.
I am neither cold nor brave. I don't think about what others often think, just because I'm tired of fruitless thoughts. Although I may not be happy all the time, I won't speculate. Blackbirds can't make me feel anything.
I saw a blackbird on the nearest roof outside my window.
My window board and gauze curtain are purple, and its feathers are red when I see them in the window. It's been a long time, and it's quiet, standing quietly in its place.
His eyes were thoughtful. He cocked his head and listened to all directions, then pecked his feathers gently. It is so leisurely, I noticed that its long hook mouth kept moving on its wings.
I didn't move my eyes.
I began to feel an idea coming at me, so I supported my head with my hands. What are those things? Where do they exist? I asked, I expected, but I got nothing. My heart is as empty as the cloudless sky in Wan Li.
I heard the bell coming from a distance. I watched the dazzling light on the blackbird's feathers, broke away from the feathers and shot long thorns in the air. My coming thoughts stopped in an unknown place.
The blackbird looked down at the ground. Its body was still firmly fixed, and it dragged down the wing end.
I found this idea. I remembered that familiar and unfamiliar face, with soft luster in my eyes, and she was coming towards me. A sad smile spread on the freckled face, and I saw a pair of eyes open, which was particularly deep, and I seemed to be hiding in the deepest place. There are some tears on that eyelash, or tears, reminding me that it's time to leave. I see a purple, a deep purple, a blue and black. I can't see anything.
"oh! Oh, my God! This is not an idea, this is a memory. "
I twisted my hands at a loss and endured this strange punishment.
When I opened my eyes again, the black bird had spread its wings and flew away. It gave a low cry and my pane covered it. The dry and old crying in my ear made me realize a terrible situation, and I remembered the old woman who recited the Buddha's name.
"Nothing, nothing, blackbird."