People in the rain have a circle of fine hairs,
They walk like brown trees, so sparse.
The whole street stretches like a thick saxophone.
There is a light spreading along the undulating roof.
Rain falls on children and dogs.
The leaves and the lights on the wall are quietly on.
I walked into a small town on the plain,
Walk along the stairs to the house. There is a basket of chestnuts in the window.
I walked to the door where the lips touched the saxophone.
wave
Can't arouse your fears, gray-necked bird
I walked on the stairs, listening to your crow.
Like a musical instrument on a booth, it's full.
My home.
In the distance is a lead-gray seaport from other provinces.
Every time my mother runs away from home,
You can find her there. It's up to you.
Crows like to fall in love.
The other world-I was tensed by the noon time,
The drum I lost when I was a child.
My woman kissed me and took off my clothes.
Can't talk in the afternoon
In the distant world,
Someone is becoming more and more clear:
Someone overturned the house with an air shovel.
Move your bed in the morning from under the stone.
Ur picked up the word "fire" and looked for the floor.
I stared at a window jumping in the air;
Writing! Writing!
Listen to the sand seeping into the darkness. ...
Selected from Photos of Years edited by Cheng Guangwei and published by Social Science Literature Publishing House.