Essay

In a dream, when someone said a silent poem in the middle of the night, the most lovesick person was sleepless in the middle of the night. In such a night, who was caught by your thoughts? Do you need a thief who stole the dream or a person who lit the night? Are you suffering from a stubborn mania or a crazy delusion? I actually planted myself in the dream.   In fact, the dream of spring is so prosperous that you can’t hold it and can’t see it. Who can guarantee tomorrow? Don’t exchange smiling faces by dreaming. What I love is that you are so happy and delicate..     After ten years of writing, I couldn’t hold back the past, learned to forgive, forgave the time for changing my face, forgave the promise of not passing through time, forgave life for changing with reality, and what did you win?   Once fantasized, hoped oneself to grow old in a certain moment, that is a happy thing, now, I was afraid of the naivety at that time, once you were addicted to words, because you wrote him in the poem, what about your dream, did it blossom.   Over the years, you have been to any place, you always said, the road is long and the foot is short, the lovesickness is in pairs, the distance, have you been there, you often say, the original heaven is the final desolation, do you write letters, still attach every word, do you still have wet eyes, do you draw red carpet halls, do you find them, do you still often not send letters, do you still like to see palm prints, do you still believe in destiny??     Shadow 1 I am the kind of person in Tagore’s poem who carries the light on his back, facing the sea, not daring to talk about life, and throwing only floating bottles.   I threw a bottle and dreamed a dream. I put the shadow in the dream and put the dream into the bottle.   For dreams, is a woman who can’t afford to take responsibility.   I put a chair in my dream, hoping to continue the story of the previous month and the next month. I dreamed that we slept in each other’s arms, and you folded all your dreams into my dream.   So, we kissed on the road and woke up. I saw my shadow being pulled for a long time..   By moonlight, I stopped and walked, complaining that my lover didn’t love enough. in the ancient well in the backyard, I played a bowl of acacia, trying to wash away my lover’s affection and accidentally wet my shadow.   Since then, they have never dried in the sun.   You are constantly on the run, constantly looking for, from dim lights to isolated islands to nightclub hugs, are you looking for a home, or are you relying on or laughing for a short time?.   When dusk falls all over the ground, you find that it is not others who take you in, but shadows, and you embrace yourself instead of others..     I want to travel 1 section of road and 1 section of scenery, so I want to travel, so I will see different lives. I will write all the scenery in writing with a pen, fold it into life, make life into poetry, make scenery into soul, and not go along with loneliness..   Cities, platforms and docks are all my favorite words, while coffee is my favorite life and I don’t want to be framed by reality. I want to bring my favorite words into my favorite words and look for the future to grow old, leisurely, singing songs all the way and sunshine all the way..     Related to you, I once banished my body and let me leave myself. When I couldn’t hold back memories, the shadow was restored to reality and lies were like poems..   To ask me to withdraw from this story, betrayal is not enough to describe this deadly feeling. Without you, I can leave myself and let the soul pull away from the body..   Perhaps, I will meet another story.   Love for a foot, I quit for a foot.   I picked up too many days of past mistakes and carefully stacked them into sad samples.   I always think of you by accident and dare not ask you for news, afraid of hearing your wedding date, you said she was a good woman, you said I was like a child, miss the way you spoke, miss the day you wrote me a poem, and want to sing a song for you, ” I still love you in her arms.”. I’m alone in my memory, everything about you is about her, and everything about me is about you.     Walking in the street I walked in the crowded crowd, only heard people beating their breath, and went from morning till evening, only to find or forget someone.   Fireworks are too licentious to betray my heart and laugh at me silly. Sadness exchanged with loneliness takes shape in my palm and bursts into cloves. But I did not hear the sound of flowers blooming. Did my eyes deceive my ears or did you deceive me? No, not at all. The reason is that someone is in the street full of yearning. I don’t know if I will go home with a smile..     Fantasy If you want me to have a height, it’s high enough to reach heaven and touch dusk.   If you want me to have a width, it will be wide enough to see the world in different ways.   If you want me to have a degree of narrowness, it will be as narrow as I have only one seat to stand on and as narrow as I only think of my mother.     Dream night, I hold an umbrella and come to Fengzhi’s rain lane. I see the clove-like girl. It was a girl with vengeful hatred. I can’t see her face and only hear her face..   She, sighing at dusk, was badly hurt by the rain.   She stood at the crossing where she left, singing that the wasteland is old, that it is one’s wasteland is old, so sad and so desolate.   And my umbrella can’t keep out her sadness.   I watched her go so far and said go far forever.   At dawn, my tears were drenched very wet, very wet, very wet.     At night in the city, they go out in the most beautiful way and go home in the most awkward way.   I asked, tired?   The answer is to smoke a cigarette, forget all the past, sing a song, disperse all melancholy, and those who shuttle between wine, money and men will become noble when drunk..   So, what is noble?   The answer is this city, the light is red because of me, the wine is green because of me, don’t you think it’s beautiful?   But what I saw was that the night was cool like water, and the wine was red like blood, so I love dearly..     Tears inadvertently, either during the day, or at night, or lonely, say carnival, you kissed my face, kissed my eyes.   I understand easily, all my pains, all my sorrows.   When you slip through my mouth, all the stories become betrayals.   Said it was my eyes that went into the sand and helped me wash my eyes so that I could see farther.   I cried, you know, I hurt you, I laughed, you cheered with your life, I hurt your interpretation with your life, you always visited my life in the way of your life..   Every time you come, you are so sincere, so deep – rooted, so embarrassing, and so beautiful, but I can’t keep you when you slip down.   If there is an afterlife, I will make a pair of wings for you to become an angel when you fall.     Poets and madman poets, in their own words, plant other people’s dreams, write poems for others, keep things out, but speak incisively and vividly, cry deeply and tear their hearts apart with laughter.  But I don’t know that I am just a person who writes outside the paper, like a madman who can’t see the pen crying for her in his hand..   Mad, she ran into other people’s stories, dialogue, drama and various roles. She was wearing a black dress, singing a folding opera in the text and dancing a person’s lonely ballet..   At this point, I see him as a poet, not a madman.

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