Leave
Take time on the road.
And sit at night waiting for the sun to catch the market.
It's definitely different.
When it rains, we take the time.
Clip under your armpit and take a convertible.
Leaving home. A lot of times we go out.
It's not uprooted. Spring.
The oil raiser attracts bees and butterflies.
Pear blossom on the hill behind the house.
With beautiful eyes, seduc.
Tiannan Haibei. We walked on foot.
A lot of places, thoughts.
Killed by old brains.
But spring sprouts again.
An authentic destination.
Fall where you once left off.
Something that is not visible.
Maybe short, as short as a lifetime.
When leaving.
I still forgot to put my heart on it.
Surrender. But at night, there will be many butterflies dreaming in.
In your arms. ――
Void night
On the widow's bed.
A woman who has been pregnant seven times in one night.
Muttering in his mouth.
Every time a flower blooms, you will see it with your own eyes.
Rouge wets the ground beneath your feet.
Then her tired head.
drooped down. In the night of relaxation.
All things are empty.
And people!Always liked.
Extraneous branches, or.
I always like it, get to the bottom of it.
Unlike leopards, which just drag their long tails.
Just use the solitary eye.
* This sunset slipped over the world.
But my ears, my mouth.
It has withered. No more cravings.
In the groping of the blind.
The road follows the foot, follows.
The queen bee of spring runs non-stop.
Run. But inexplicable moments.
Someone always seems to be talking.
Let's end it soon!
Can't put it down
It's a strange sound.
He rang out from his heart.
Then it was covered by the mud in my heart.
Wipe the glass, wipe the sound of cicadas.
than wiping the notes of the illusion.
Simpler. If we hide our faces and weep.
Put down the wine glass in your hand.
Let go of your emotions. Stand on a higher ground and look up to the sky and sigh.
The heart will emerge.
The face of the clouds drifting away.
When the sun is sleeping on its side.
Grief also hits the water, too.
Ride the waves. ――
The notes of wine, perhaps.
will pierce the painful heart.
He sat in a dazzled shape, his eyes glazed over.
There will be a greater brilliance, a greater brilliance.
will shatter. It will be like the moon.
To the face of human suffering.
Sprinkle it off. 
Author:Ye Xiaosong, born in 1964, screen name, Prometheus (fire thief), columnist of the Reading Sleep Poetry Society, and a good poet in poetry writing. Some of the poems are included in "Reading Sleep Poems: Spring Blossoms" and "Reading Sleep Poems: The Grass Grows and the Warbler Flies". The language of poetry is unique, the poetry is agile, and he is good at digging out the poetic soil and building the castle of poetry from the silhouette of life. Poetry has its own unique meaning and specialness, and has a certain degree of recognition.
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.