Begonias
I don't know about the vegetation that the gods have blessed with.
Will be in the autumn night in what way.
Place my heart!
Let it repent, let it be sad, let it be angry.
Give it the power to resurrect.
I heard it shaking all night uneasy.
Hear a strong flame of light roaring at the top of it.
It's a sharp statement.
Sharp blades.
It makes me suspicious.
I know these docile white horses.
It will definitely follow a certain river.
Arrive at the world we loved.
Carrying a boat full of roses.
Walk through the moonlight.
Wait for me, I'll get dressed in a fancy dress.
Go under the begonia tree.
Going to an appointment with you. The sun is just right
My warm palms.
What else can you hold:
The birds fled. It's no use crying over spilt milk..
I'm moving away from my homeland.
My hometown. Or.
I'm just one in the dry summer.
He is a golden cicada running for his life.
No one is in me.
In a heart-rending roar.
Evoke a stubborn rhetoric.
to soothe the dwindling love.
Like a dull white rose.
Implicit statements. A lifetime of tribulation.
Houttuynia cordata is spread out in the wetland park.
The lake is full of mulberry.
I saw the shore of the lake.
The fading sunset.
Devouring the gloomy scenery of the lake embankment mountain.
The pain of the tear spread in the night wind.
And the top of that calamus.
Is there still a hidden source.
Lights on the shore of Crescent Lake.
All the passion is in the rainy season.
Fallen roses.
Always in the fire in the distance.
Quenched out. The grace of the Smurfs.
In my rough heart.
There will always be a lake.
Ride over the waves of the night.
It is like the endless Sanskrit sound in the temple.
Late at night: I'm crawling on a river
Who can virtualize a prosperous Huayue.
Let it shine through the night to see my sorrow:
Like the wind of midnight, it is restless.
And I can always plow out a very empty fertile soil from the depths of the moonlight!
Twilight Quadruple: How am I?
In the depths of the snow, look for the dying green butterfly
What a blank chase there will be in this earthly world.
I heard Autumn Fireflies in the depths of the cave.
With a faint glow.
Open the pear blossoms hidden in the autumn night——
on those vigorous branches.
The candle flame of your conversion is still left.
In the depths of the night, who can tolerate the sound of this wooden fish.
Whether it's swimming against the current or sneaking slowly.
What a rebellion my young madness had.
Or just in front of a window covered with snowflakes.
Watch countless sheep rampant through the midnight meadows.
Or. I'm just under this endless moon.
Cultivate with Hoshito.
Willing to be a bitter monk in the world.
In the noisy rapids, allow a fish.
In the middle of my night wanton.
Through.
Author:Geng Bing, net name: Houde Zaiwu, post-70s, college culture, member of Jiangsu Writers Association, columnist of Reading Sleep Poetry Society. In 95, he began to publish his works, and his works were scattered in more than 100 kinds of literary publications such as "Writer's Daily" and "Poetry", and won more than 30 national awards.
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.