Open a few more assembly lines
I have an eco-friendly machine tool here that hasn't started yet.
Like the spring wind should blow from the sea.
You start planning for death early in the morning.
Categorize life and throw it into a pre-divided cemetery.
It's not the tradition of the past.
There is a new development of the wet one.
Harmful and associated with pigs.
Can be ** low disdain for the head.
We repent to the old pollution.
Face the wall of several tombstones and learn from the pain.
Recall the sea breeze sweeping the lovely motherland.
Open the national environmentally friendly machine tool and work together.
Make her a new garment.
At the very least, we should be careful.
No, splash her with lunch soup.
Lishan temple fair
Outside of the cold and warm world, the quiet hot spring water.
Along the solitude flows down, poured in.
Contemplating the abyss of life, sorrow and tears are laughing.
Remove the sighing face and collect it.
The happiest thing,?and a copy of the Book of Changes
Talk to your other self and embrace the totem.
I want pilgrims to soar through the clouds and gather on the mountainside to pray for blessings.
I turned my back to Lishan and carried the ashes of the incense you had burned.
Sprinkle the water to Lin and Tong, and send hope to the distance.
Greeted the light and went home with the evening light.
Lishan is its own every day, a bright scenery and life.
There is nothing remarkable about life and others.
I haven't been to a temple fair, and my flesh is incense.
The flame of life is never extinguished.
The smoke of the soul is watched over around Lisan.
The warmth of asking for is ** yourself, and you have lasting confidence in life.
Birthday
You walk slowly from dusk to the light.
The back of the rickets is obvious.
I can't afford to hunch my bloated figure.
The shadow dragged dimly.
Leave a long trail on the earth.
The charcoal of life will turn to amber.
Through the moonlight of sorrow.
My tears are as old as yours.
Nothing is left after time is gone.
Is it the same with love?
From the day I was born.
It's destined to watch you grow old.
Watching the turn of the four seasons, I gradually know the sorrow of autumn.
I was tall and sturdy with the Nan tree at home.
You are like the earth under your feet that is cold to water.
The throes of life.
I have no memory left.
But I will use the love of my life.
Double the pain.
Author:Lan Bing, currently living in Xi'an, is a doctor and a member of the Sleep Poetry Society. I love to write poems, I want to be washed away by the heavy rain, and I want to kiss the dripping lily of the valley in the poem.
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.