What are the poems of the Taiwanese writer Yu Guangzhong? In addition to & lt; dog-tailed grass & gt;, but & lt; dog-tailed grass & gt; to express how the thoughts and feelings? What other poems are o

What are the poems of the Taiwanese writer Yu Guangzhong? In addition to & lt; dog-tailed grass & gt;, but & lt; dog-tailed grass & gt; to express how the thoughts and feelings? What other poems are out there? Wuling Junior

Typhoon season The water tribe in Bus Gap is crowded

There is a tributary of the Yellow River in my bloodline

The Yellow River is too cold and needs to ooze a lot of alcohol

Floating at the bottom of the glass is my family tree

Hey! Another bottle of sorghum

Flint in my anger, Dayu in my tears

The drums of Zhuo Lu in my ears

Legend has it that Grandfather shot down nine suns

There's an uncle whose name could frighten off Shan Yu

Hear that? A bottle of sorghum

Thousands of gold furs hang in the window of the Yellow Line

When the five-flower horse is gone, all that's left is arthritis

No more weekends waiting for me in Ximending

So I hatched a nest of kung fu novels under the pillow

A bottle of sorghum, where is it? The shopkeeper

Fire, bathing

A kind of unending longing for a different kind of space, for different kinds of elements

To the heat, or to the heat, or to the heat, or to the heat. >To different spaces, hot or cold. I don't know if I should rise or fall. I don't know if I should rise as the phoenix rises in the midst of the fire. Or if I should float in the transparency of the flow, as a swan. A pure white image that reflects the self. Long necks, rich bodies, all curved.

The process of cleansing, both

That which settles needs to settle, and that which floats floats

To water a bird, to fire a bird, to fire a bird, to fire a bird, to water a bird

Then I shall choose, which process shall I choose

There's a swan in the West, swimming in a sea of ice

That's the cold zone, a superhuman climate

That's the ice that freezes and the lonely ice

The silence is the stillness of time, that pours down the shadow of the self. Silence is the stillness of time, and the reflection is complete

Once, every wild goose was a swan

The water shimmered, like a dream, like a reality, and in the East

On the hot East, there was a phoenix

From the fire, it came back to the fire

Step by step, one spark at a time, dancing on the flames

Burning up the Crow tribe, the phoenix couldn't burn up the phoenix

One feather of the sun trembled and rose forever. The everlasting rising

Cleaner, clearer, clearer. Fire is the warrior's journey

Glorious reincarnation is the soul from element to element

White peacocks, swans, cranes, white coats and white fans

Time stands still, in the midst of which rests the wise man, the hermit

Everlasting flow, everlasting flames

Cleansing the warrior's guilt, the warrior's blood

And the soul, what shall you do? Choose the cold of the cold or the hot of the hot

Choose the sea of ice or the sun

O unclean soul, uncleanness

Or the bath of ice or the bath of fire is a fulfillment

An enviable fulfillment, but the bath of fire is more enviable, and the bath of fire is more difficult.

Fire, the gate of eternal life, arched in death, arched in death, an arched challenge, says, "He who does not embrace death cannot be born."

It was the Crows, the Phoenixes, who decided, in a single moment, that the will of fire would, in a single moment, accept that kind of punishment, and in a single moment, would say, "I am not guilty! I am not guilty! I am not guilty! I am not guilty! Branding my back

Branding my face, I'm still me, still

Sober I am, O soul, what's wrong with being awake

Spreading my burning arms, I can smell the distance

The hurricane of time is whistling my wings

The hairs are weeping, the bones are moaning, and I'm suffering with my own blood

To fly, to be a phoenix, your newborn

It's said in a mess:

My song is an unending yearning. My song is an unquenchable yearning

My blood boils and stops, bathing my soul in fire

Listen to the song of fire in the blue ink

Lift it up, clearer and higher after death

Burial of the stars

Light-blue night spills into the window, and the summer's overflowing

Dreams of fireflies in their little lamps

Dreams of a Tang Palace, dreams of a chasing light fan.

Dreaming of another summer night, of a star's funeral

Dreaming of a flash of light stretching and wiping out

And your exclamation, and my recollection, and a moment of countenance

Wind Chimes

My heart is a wind chime hanging on the eaves of the seven-tiered pagoda

Dinginging and dinginging and dinginging

Then it goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on, knocking at one's name

.

---- Do you feel a tremor on your tower too?

It's the pulse of silence, day and night

Do you hear it, ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling? A midsummer night

When I was a child, my dreams were all tailored in white

The dome of the tent sloped down gently

The nebula's tiny holes

When I looked up at them, I was already a little hypnotized

And the net of dreamcatchers was always too tight

There wasn't enough room for a bloodthirsty assassin to fly into it

----Night walkers in black shirts and short swords

There was only a calling out of the net, a calling in the air.

But horrified to let in the moonlight and tree shadows

A few timid insect chirps

A Zen mosquito scent

Beckons one to dream, meandering toward the realm of illusion ----

Opening one's eyes

A crimson haze is already halfway across the bed

Sent to the painter

They tell me, this summer

You may be planning a trip

to see Van Gogh or Xu Beihong

with an easel and a head of gray hair

and a laughable Sichuan dialect

Taipei will be empty as soon as you leave, my friend

and I won't see you turn around in the long streets and short alleys

it's the rainy season again

black umbrellas all over the sky, and yellow mud all over the ground

Why do you want to go back to Taipei?

Why can't you wait until mid-autumn?

Only the paddy fields in the south you can't take away

The temples, the buffaloes

And at dusk in summer

One or two egrets

Like they remembered something from your ink paintings, they flew up

The third season

The third season, the third season of the xiao and harp flute

The third season of the bhikkhu, the third season of the xiao and the harp. p>

The bhikkhuni loved to count her rosary beads under the grapevine

Purple murmurs, knocking at my window

The sun, the sun is a late newsboy

Can't throw in any golden news

Nor can I throw my melancholy

Out of the wall like the carcass of a six-legged insect

When the wind is like the wind, the wind is like the wind, the wind is like the wind, and it's like the wind, the wind is like the wind.

When the wind is like a greedy wild boy

Sweeping away the long hair, looking for someone's round neck

I want to board the long-distance blue stagecoach

To the south, to the south where the show has not yet ended

Waiting for you, in the rain

Waiting for you, in the rain, in the rainbow rain

The cicada's sound is falling down, and the frog's sound is rising up

The pool of red lotus is like a red flame, in the rain. Like red flames, in the rain

It's the same whether you come or not, but I feel

Every lotus looks like you

especially in the twilight, in this drizzle

Eternity, moment, moment, eternity

Waiting for you, outside of time

Waiting for you within time, in the moment, in eternity

If your hand is in mine, at this moment

If your hand is in mine, at this moment

If your hand is in mine, at this moment

If your hand is in mine, at this moment

If you are in mine, at this moment

It's a pity. If your hand were in mine, at this moment

If your fragrance were in my nostrils, I would say, "Lover boy

No, this hand should be picking lotuses, in the Wu Palace

This hand should be shaking a laurel pulp, in the Mulan Boat

A star hangs from the eaves of the Science Museum

An earring like a pendant

Switzerland. The watch says it's seven o'clock Suddenly you come

The red lotus after the rain, fluttering, you come

Like a small decree

From a love story you come

From Jiang Baishi's lyrics, rhyming, you come

Homesickness

When I was a child

Homesickness was a small stamp

I was at the here

Mother at the other end

When I grew up

Nostalgia is a narrow boat ticket

I am here

Bride at the other end

Later

Nostalgia is a short grave

Me on the outside

Mother at the end

Now

Nostalgia is a shallow bay of water, a shallow river of water, a shallow river of water. Nostalgia is a shallow strait

I am at this end

The mainland is at that end

Yuantong Monastery

This mirror is so big, look at me standing in it

There is no reflection of Narcissus

I think that the flowers are no longer clinging to my body, and the light is already flowing freely

Bhikkhuni, if the bells of the blue bells were to be clasped up

Listening to the moss that has slid down from the age of the bells

If I had been a monk, I would not have been a monk.

The top of the tower is the clouds of India, and the top of the tower is the mother

Open the ancient ashtray, and peep into my umbilical cord

All that connects me was once

The mother is here, and the mother isn't here

Shakyamuni is here, and Shakyamuni isn't here

Shakyamuni is always on the opposite side of the monument

Buddha is in Tang, and Buddhas are in Dunhuang

No. Buddhas sit under that Brahmaputra tree. The Buddha sits under the Brahma tree

before the cradle, after the coffin

and the lion doesn't roar, the bell doesn't chime, and the Buddha doesn't speak

The cries of my daughters at the bottom of hundreds of steps

call me to go back, to the rest of my life

Myths of Dinghu

Used by the steel axe of Lord Pangu, the same axe used in splitting out the Kunlun Mountains

With a horn of Old Chief Xuan Yuan, who was the first to use this axe in the world. Chief Xuanyuan's crow horn

The one that shot through Chi You

The Zhuo Lu, Zhuo Lu in the oracle bones

The snowman picks up

Peng's leftover feathers on the roof of the world When the Yellow River was diverted

There were the foot prints of the unicorn on the bed of the Qian River hehe

Five hundred years have passed and there will be another 500 years to come

There is not a phoenix that can fly in the jet cloud

The dragon has been proven to be a cloud-watching reptile

Cousins, it is said that we are the tribe that shoots the sun

There are chiefs with heavy pupils, and chiefs with colorful eyebrows

There are chiefs with horse's beaks, and chiefs with ovipositor

If you don't believe me, you can ask Peng Zu

Peng Zu couldn't read Cangjie's manuscript

Go ask Lao Tzu, who in the Tao Te Ching, blinks straight out his eyes

What is the point of asking Lao Tzu? Ask Qizi, who is hiding in a bomb shelter

Refusing to be interviewed by a reporter

Should have donated Ancient China to the British Museum long ago

Cousins, go to the knocked down Buzhou Mountain

Sit on a fossil and cry at night

Crying the multicolored stones into a colorful meteor shower

And cry all night long, cousins. Cousins

Crying Pangu's eyes into a lunar eclipse

And resting their heads on the Classic of Mountains and Seas

And resting their heads in the arms of Mother Rayon

And renewing a five-thousand-year dream of Huangliang, under the star Sirius

Dreaming of the ashes of heroes rekindled under the earth

To tread on the ground through the ranks of slaves

The play of Li Bai

While you were once the water of the Yellow River

When you were once the water of the Yellow River, you were once the water of the Yellow River. p>You were once the water of the Yellow River that came from the sky

Yinshan Mountain moved

Dragon Gate opened

But now it comes from your words

Shocked waves and laughter

Ten thousand miles of waves into the sea

The great waterfall that stirred up the Kuanglou

Creating something out of nothing

More than that

The Yellow River came from the west, and the great river went to the east

But five thousand years have gone by since then.

Besides five thousand years of silence

There's a Yellow River, you've got enough to do

The Great River, let's give it to the Su family's younger brother

The world's two divisions

And all of them have gone to the Shu people

You're at the Dragon Gate

He's leading the Red Cliffs

The flute that calls to the soul

Souls come back to their homes, Mother. stay long,

The tropical sea that gave birth to the typhoon,

The North Pacific in July has low pressure.

The soul returns, O mother, the south cannot stay long,

The one-way street of the sun train

July's equatorial moxibustion pedestrians' feet.

The soul returns, O mother, the north cannot stay long,

The white kingdom of the reindeer,

There is no night of rest in July, only day.

The soul returns, O mother, the foreign country cannot stay long.

The little urn is dreaming by the floor-to-ceiling window,

with the little plants you planted.

Return, Mother, to guard your little town after the fire.

When spring comes, I will walk on the wet and cold road to bury you in a small grave in my hometown.

Bury you in Jiangnan, a small town in Jiangnan.

The weeping hair of the willow hangs straight down to your grave,

When spring comes, you'll have a girl's dream,

of your mother.

And on the way to the clearing, O mother, my footprints will be deep,

Rain drips from the willow's long hair, O mother, dripping with my memories,

Souls come back, O mother, to guard the empty city of the four directions.

Twilight

If twilight is a lonely gate

Why

is it that the western gate is closed to the evening sun, and why

is it that no one comes to the gate, but only goes out of the gate?

And as soon as he went out of the pass, he was ambushed

The evening sun turned all black flags

Turning back again, the west gate was closed

---- a few times I wanted to ask the border guards on the butterflies

only to see bats fluttering up and down

Oh an empty city

Night as a network

Do you know how the night confusion came to the rescue to you?

From the sea? One fishing fire after another?

From the land? One streetlight after another?

From the wind? One returning bird after another?

The net of the heavens is wide open

The hand that casts the net creates something out of nothing

Do you know how to put it out and how to take it in?

Look at the slanting rows of ponytail pines down the slope

The hair on their backs is fluffy, and their backlit posture

is becoming more and more ambiguous and hazy

The long window facing the sea

was just about to say that twilight is coming

suddenly, there was a change of color

saying that the night has come

saying that the grey net of the heavens has not left anything behind

is being closed with tiny holes and holes.

No matter what peninsula you are in at the end of the world

What building you are in at the corner of the earth

Seeking Li Bai

-Drinking and singing and spending empty days

Who is the male who is soaring and domineering

That pair of haughty boots is still in the hands of

Gao Li Shi's indignant hands.

The pair of arrogant boots are still in the hands of Gao Li Shi, but they have disappeared

Leaving the refugees and wounded soldiers on the ground

Leaving the rhythms of the huoma and qiang flute to Du Er to chant in detail

Since He Zhizhang was blinded by the sight of you, he has become even more feinting and wildly crazy

Hiding himself in a small wine pot with a magic spell

Even the wife can't find you.

It's a pity that Chang'an is so small and the sky in the jug is so long

In all your poems, you predicted

that you would suddenly disappear, perhaps tomorrow

Only the flat boat broke the waves, and your hair was tousled in the wind

The world wants to kill you because of your enemies

How can you be killed by cirrhosis of the liver?

The wine was released, seven points brewed into the moonlight

The remaining three points whistled into the sword

The mouth of half of the Tang Dynasty

From the first Yuan to the Tianbao, from Luoyang to Xianyang

Crowns filled with the hustle and bustle of the road riders

But not as much as a thousand years later, one of your

Crystal jingles knocked on my forehead

The local a play.

Once the world has been degraded enough

It's too embarrassing to put on the night mother of God

To this day, it's a mystery where you're from

Longxi or Shandong, Qinglian Township or Shattered Leaf City

Why don't you go back to which hometown you're from?

Wherever you are drunk, you said, are not his hometown

Disappearance is the only thing that happens to geniuses

Beyond that, where do you disappear to?

The wolves can't stop crying, and Du Er can't stop trying to persuade you

Once you turn around, your head is already gray under the four windows

Seven immortals and five friends can't save you

The Kuangshan Mountain is locked up by the fog, and there's no way to get in

It's still purely fireproof, but it's just a half-grain of dancers

How can you follow the streaming clouds in Ge Hong's sleeve?

The shadow of the moon in the bottle, perhaps that is your hometown

Often get you to look up to your whole life obsessively?

Whether you go out and cry to the west or to the east

Changan has long since fallen

The 240,000-mile journey home

No need to alarm the roc, no need to invite the crane

Just throw the glass of wine into mid-air

The glass will spin into a flying saucer

The flashes of the strange edge of the world are spinning faster and faster

Carrying you back to the legend. In the legend

Spring, I remembered

Spring, I remembered

Jiangnan, the Jiangnan of the Tang poems, when I was nine years old

Picking mulberry leaves and catching dragons

(you can go back from Keelung Harbor)

Jiangnan

Siao Dou's Jiangnan

Su Xiao's Jiangnan

So I remembered the lake of Duolian, Duoling's Jiangnan

Su Xiao's Jiangnan

So I thought about the lake of Dolian, the lake of Doling. Thinking of the lake with many lilies, the lake with many lozenges

The lake with many crabs, the Jiangnan with many lakes

The little battlefield between the king of Wu and the king of Yue

(That war was beautiful enough)

Fleeing Xishi

Missing Fan Li

Missing in the wine-flagged

(Three hours' flying from Songshan)

Emperor Qianlong's Jiangnan

Spring, so I thought of the Jiangnan with weeping willows everywhere

Remembering

Taihu Lakeshore, a fishing port, remembering

So many cousins, walking on the willow embankment

(I can only marry one of them!)

Walking through the willow embankment, those many cousins

were so Renyi old

Renyi old, in Jiangnan

(the Jiangnan of the three hours of jet clouds)

Even if they met, they would not accompany me

accompanied by me to pick lotus flowers, accompanied by me to pick water lilies

even if they met, the meeting was in the Jiangnan

in the Jiangnan in the spring rain of apricot blossoms

In Jiangnan's apricot blossom village

(Where to ask for a winemaker)

Where is my mother

Easter, not resurrected is my mother

A little girl from Jiangnan turned into my mother

Chingmingming Festival, my mother is calling out to me, at the Yuantong Temple

calls out to me, over the strait

shouting at me, on this side of the strait

shouting, in Jiangnan, in Jiangnan

Jiangnan with many temples, Jiangnan with many pavilions

Jiangnan with many kites

Jiangnan, O Jiangnan, Jiangnan in the sound of bells

(Standing in Keelung Harbor, I think - I think

I think

The Jiangnan of many swallows

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moonlight

Moon is arsenic over ice

Moon is like arsenic, moon is like frost

Falling on whose wound?

Moonophobia and moon-philia

Bursting season, moonlight light

Ghosts of the sun, ghosts of the sun

Reflections of the returning light on the face of the Death Star

Moonophilia and moon-phobia

Sneaking cats, sneaking the sea

Sneaking the pale beauty

Beneath the taiyin, the night is the border of death

Sneaking dreams, sneaking clouds

Modernity far away, antiquity near

Moonophobia and moon-phobia

The sun's frown coins, minted in two sidelong images

The sea is pregnant far away, this night

Black cats chanting on the tiles

Moonophobia and moon-phobia

Pale, pretty women

Big-eyed faces, pressed up against windows

I, too, am sneaking the sea.

I, too, have been busy all night, holding moonlight

in my palm, pouring it into a bottle

analyzing the chemistry

analyzing memories, analyzing sadness

Moonphobia and moon-lovers, moonlight

Spider's web

Twilight is a creepy spider

creeping in to the water to come at me

Repeating feet darkly Up and down

The calm sea is nowhere to be seen

And I don't know where I'll land

Only that in retrospect

You and I have been caught

Into its endless gray web

Buuu

The flute player of the cloudy sky, with overlapping phrases played

Tick tock, tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock,tick tock

The bitter call for the clearing of the day. The bitter call of the Qingming Festival

and the rain and mist all over the mountains and valleys

in the low eternal sighs

is always the watery feeling of the rice paddies in the south of the Yangtze River

when the butterfly umbrellas are not yet out of the house

and the frog drums have not yet stirred

you flew all the way from the Shennong's ancient yellow calendar according to the festival seasons

and hid yourself in the corner of the most subdued smoke in the wild.

A sound of bitterness urges me to return

Might as well return, you mean, might as well return?

Where to go, flute player, I ask you

The fields of my childhood have become y entrenched in the twilight

It is impossible to reach out from afar

There are no shepherd boys on the road in the twilight

The store in the village of apricot blossoms has changed to sell beer

You can't even draw it out of a painting

You can't even draw it out of a painting.

The kind of nostalgia behind the drizzle

Put down your nostalgic almanac

I looked across the barren hills

The two horses that plowed the fields on Sundays

The digger that roared like a cow

So-called eternity

So-called eternity

Are they just a mantra for the ghostly nocturnal travelers

They use to make themselves bold?

The road that shoots up from the impenetrable central square

is a light

Dogwood

All in all, no one can argue with the grave

Death is the only permanent address

such as the back door of the funeral parlor after the mourners have left the building

Facing south, so what?

Facing north, so what?

The bier always looks like it's going far away

Anyway, no one can argue about it

As for immortality

Or maybe it's just a code word, for the sake of the night

Spirit, or no spirit, believe it or don't believe it

At the end of the day no one's any taller than a dog's tail

Unless the name rises, like the stars going To join Rilke or Li Bai

Beyond that

Everything stays under the grass

Names to names, skulls to skulls

Stars to stars, earthworms to earthworms

Under the night sky, if anyone calls

Above, there's a kind of light

Below, a cricket

I was wondering if there was a light above

and a cricket below

that would answer

asking for a candle

Occasionally, in the night of a blackout

a white candle had the intention of accompanying me

to explore a long lost world

Looking at the posture of the candle as it led the way and the clear light that cared for me with fondness

It was so familiar and dear to my heart

It was suspicious

These were the same white candles that were in the night sky of Bashan when I was a child

These candles are the same as those in the night sky of Bashan.

It is the one that accompanied me to the edge of my dream when I was studying at Bashan Night Rain

before it turned into smoke

Each candle has a story

told to the fire with the heart of the candle

Is it really true that the one on the table is the one that I was looking at forty years ago?

Is it really true that the one on the table is the one that I was looking at forty years ago?

Is it really, Candle, I ask you

A gust of wind passes by and you gently shake your head

With or without meaning to say no

With or without meaning to say yes

Even if you really are the one from the old days

and I recognize it in a blur

How can I hope that, in the shifting light

You would recognize it as mine

If it is not? Recognize that this is me

Recognize that this, ahem, strange white hair

is the young man with the raven hair of the day?

To the lamp

The old age is worth living for, no matter how lonely it is

The late nights when you must be awake, like tonight

When the sound of the waves gently shakes the restless world

into a dream: the ships in the harbor

The streets down the hill, the wives in the bedrooms

The snores on the table answering the wind on the water

This is a good thing that there is still this lamp left. But fortunately, I still have this light

to accompany me to savor the long empty nights

No matter how much anger and sadness is underneath this gray hair

this right hand that refuses to let go, when everything

is out of reach, especially the years

wanting to take advantage of the fact that my bones are not yet blunt and my wrists are not yet cold to ask for the meaning of my coming here from destiny. And you, the lamp, always close by

favoring the warmth of a three-foot pulse

wherever I have a secret to tell the world

no matter how light the stroke

you think it's a vital whisper

that won't be drowned out by snores and the winds

and more than anything else, that when at last I fall asleep, too, you'll still be there to light the way for the sake of the world. Here, just to keep

outside the dream, to carry my words

to those who must be awake

Midwinter moon

Mercury's moonlight drenches my bed

Sent by my childhood to find me?

For something lost?

I can't remember how

Only in the ambiguous vision, there was a piece of arm

Is it mine, sunk under the water

A piece of monument to be proved

Precious as the clear light is, if I were to be soundly aged

Wouldn't it be a failure to Cindy, a sin of elegance?

Surprisingly, I rolled over towards the outside

and the full moon collided

The hidden loss that can't be avoided

has broken a few pieces at once?

What's even more amazing is that the moonlight

passed through me without leaving a shadow

I heard my childhood calling me from outside

The trees were in shadow, and I pushed the window to answer

A gust of wind lifted me up

and floated me all the way toward the ghostly moon

Blowing all the way through

The next date

Next time you're going to meet up

The next date is the next time you're going to meet up with me, and I want you to know that I'm not going to be the first one to meet with you. p>--Attentive to re-send the words at parting There are vows in the words that two hearts know

When I die, your name, like the last petal of a flower

flutters off my lips. Your fingers

are a string of keys, luscious

Holding in my hands, let me open

Let me open with openness, which door?

It's lucky to die holding your hand

Listen to you, you still love me, listen to you

There's still a phoenix after the phoenix dies

There's still a spring after the spring dies but at least

there's a May that used to belong to us

Every gray hair still trembles for you, and every dash of suavity

Remembers the olden days, remembers

Some red lotus bloom where you stepped

A narcissus sprayed where you stood

You stood in the wind, and your skirt fluttered, and your hair fluttered

Covering your ear in my chest

Listen to my heart, it's tired, it's tired

It's already too old for ZhenZhen ah ZhenZhen

It beats too strongly, too often

Love gives it too much weight

Love gives it too much weight

It gives me too much weight

It's too much weight

Love gives me too much weight.

Love puts too heavy a load on it, love

Love is here at one end and primitive at the other

. Last date in the blue field

And then last time, on the shore of the Luo River

In the flood, in the sea, in the nebulae of the reentry

In the memory, ah, beyond the memory, the other end of the love

Where is the next date, where is the next date?

What do you say, what do you say, I'll follow you

(Can you believe in reincarnation, can you believe?)

Death's black sleeves block, I can't see clearly, but

Well, I hear you, I must go

Forever, I'll wait

If in the morning I hear you pouring out, the most beautiful

that verb, and if I die that night

What have I to fear? When I love

I will love poignantly, if not magnificently

Your beauty splits me for no reason, this summer

Just stretch out your arm, and a miracle will land

In the palm of the spread hand, there will be a landing for you

In the palm of my hand, in the palm of a lotus

For example, in the dusk at the end of the summer, in the face of the pool of fresh fragrance

In the face of the The souls of the quiet spontaneous combustion

Which one, which one will promise me

If I call you by your little name?

As long as there is pool, as long as there is summer

A petal of red color, why should I meet you?

Lotus is Zhen Zhen's nickname, Lotus is Zhen Zhen

One thought of Zhen Zhen, see Lotus is a person

As long as there is still in the heart, as long as there is still in the dream

There is still a petal of freshness, that is, the summer is already gone

That is, the remnants of stems on the ground, that is, the sky is full of broken stars, the immortality of the soul of the Lotus is still there

Forever, I will wait for you to part your lips, open your teeth, and spit out That verb

Where love has been, far from forgetting. The anti-wounded

Ever traumatized. My wounds

are red and shocking, branded in the shape of a lotus flower

Nostalgia

Hourly

Nostalgia is a small stamp

I'm at this end

Mother's at that end

Growing up Nostalgia is a narrow ship's ticket

My end

Bride's at that end

Later

Nostalgia is a short grave

I am on the outside

Mother is on the inside

And now

Nostalgia is a shallow strait

I'm on this side

Continent is on the other side

Qin Terracotta Warriors

----Warrior Terracotta Figurines Unearthed in Lintong

Armor undone, hands still clutching

a bow or spear I cannot see

If gongs and drums were suddenly struck

would you turn around and immediately

run toward the sands of 2,000 years ago

to join rows and columns of your fellow warriors?

If you suddenly opened your eyes and your might flashed

Mustache cocked with prim and untamed

How should the astonished spectators walk away?

Fortunately, your eyes are still closed, as if you are

accustomed to the darkness of the netherworld for years

How can you be exposed at once?

If you were to open your mouth suddenly, with your thick Qin accent

and the ancient tone, who could hear you clearly?

Separated from the riverbanks of this long time

I don't know that there is Han, moreover, regardless of the later

You say your Xianyang, and I say my Xi'an

Incident, who can say that the game of chess in Chang'an?

And no matter how strong your arrows are

No longer can they reach the Peach Blossom Garden

Asked if this is the world, I can't hide it from you

The empire of the First Emperor, with cars on the same track and books in the same language

Mighty black flags fluttered from the Great Wall to the Crossing Site

Only passed on to the Second Emperor, and then you were left behind, the warrior

Leaving behind the pits and valleys full of figurines.

Strict discipline, the vast six thousand soldiers and riders

It is said that there is no clothes

With the son of the same robe

Wang Yu Xing Shi

Show me the gaol and spear

Generous song, followed the ancestral dragon

They all went into the ground, I did not expect to be only three?

How many times has Harley turned back?

After two thousand years of darkness and confinement

Appointment made, you are unearthed everywhere

Reorganize the team in the museum

Eyebrows lifelike, quiet and clamorless look

Testify to a missing empire

And the clamor of the audience, we

We are all going to the ground in a twinkling

We have to wait until the year and the month, and the time will come when we will have to wait for our turn. We can't, we're flesh and blood

and we'll rot away in a flash, like the nobles you buried with us

only you, the immortal ones, the 6,000 soldiers and horses

Tongguan Pass has fallen, and, alas, Xianyang will not be defended

Who will save the fire in the A-fang Palace?

You will never be able to go back, you will be

hostages of the next generation, prisoners forever

Is there more than twelve golden figures to keep quiet?

Who said there is no descendant? You are the most honored descendants of

not to go into the past with the First Emperor

but to explore the future with Xu Fu's six thousand men and women

to explore the future of immortality

This is the first time that I have ever seen a man who is not a man, but a woman, and who has never been a man, and who has never been a man.