"petticoat in early April"

"petticoat in early April"

At noon, I read Apollinaire's poem: Time passed and I didn't move. Or, Weng Garetti: For me, life is just a screaming rock stuck at the bottom of my throat.

I like reading such sentences. It doesn't matter whether they are poems or not. What's important is that they wake up the eyes and the mind. Hold me tightly in your arms so that I don't need anything anymore.

The sentence of the poet's teahouse: There are no farewell people on the platform/the lights are gloomy, and I am also a part of the darkness.

That day, I had a talk with the plants, and she sent me a few lines: "That night, you said such wonderful things to me/made those flowers hanging on our heads/suddenly fall in love with us, and one of them fell on our knees in order to get close to us ..."

Dusk is always full of unknown sadness. Listen to Xu Wei's song: I am as free as the wind. Just like your tenderness can't be retained.

Dear, because of this moment. Be grateful for the gift of life, it is beautiful to live. There are many moments when we can come back here. Build a private house and raise some glowing words or sentences. In the dark, they give off a warm luster. There is no better gift, no better comfort.

She whispered softly: "Because of these wonderful surroundings, I feel that life must be flawed again, otherwise it will not be human. Gratitude is not just talk, nor is it necessary for people to know. It is full and full of tears. "

I can't speak anymore, whenever I look at such a sentence. "When I die, I want your hand to press my eyes:/I want the light, and I want the fragrance of your lovely hands/ears of wheat to float over me again,/making me feel the tenderness of fate." This is the name I can't bear to shout again: Nie Luda.

"In the petticoat in early April and the cicada singing in mid-August/Tell me, she is playful, she is angry, she is seduced" and "Now I want to leave a pot of eternal water around me/as a model, symbolizing the natural storm/and your hands that make love suffer/and your shell that echoes the Aegean Sea". It's so beautiful that people can't breathe. But how to endure it, you still have to read the sound.

can it be said that they have no sound, no color and no life? It is they who make this ordinary evening shine.

29. 8.3