Inspirational poetry

There is a winding maze between the two solar terms in March. As soon as the heart lights up, the dove disappears from the moon shadow. When I touch the fine horse under me, the road in front of me will still be a trap. Bronze wine bottles will sit quietly in the noisy royal court. When I am mourning, please ask a stove to rest the tired birds. There are unexpected smiles all the way on the lost road.

The east wind has called, and the dew has never stopped condensing. When the spring grass grows into a cry, my tears will burst. When I leave a city, I will not hesitate or give up. Fresh soil grows old in the years, because I miss the initial strangeness. Maybe after re-choosing, you will fly away and leave me alone. If the sea finally freezes, please forgive me for nesting in the snowfield.

I don't think about it any more. I would like to believe that every miracle is just in time. There are still twelve days and nights from the holy city, but my fast horse has become a beauty. Who quickened the tree's rings like an arrow that left the string, and who blew an endless horn on the road ahead like my childhood song?

Wang Guozhen, Alpine Plateau: Shouting is the outbreak of silence, and silence is a silent call. No matter how intense it is, it is not quiet. I pray that as long as I am not bored, if I am called from afar, I will go to towards the distant. If the mountain is calling me, I will go to the mountain, my feet will be worn out, and I will simply let the sunset smear the path and scratch my hand. I will turn thorns into azaleas. There is no road longer than feet, and there is no mountain higher than people.