Chapter 6 Cihang

Yes, in the struggle between good and evil The reproduction and reproduction of love Older than the remnants of death, A hundred times more brave. I, that's it~ A love letter to action I don't understand forgetting. Not used to numbness either. From time to time I show my five fingers shaped like orchids Bounce toward the void—' It was the echo that hurt. However, just to hear the lost man again news of defeat I just fiddled with this one Proposition ancient music? in the struggle between good and evil The reproduction and reproduction of love Older than the maim of death,

A hundred times more brave. take off the crown of thorns He came from the wilderness, Reclaim your own destiny. looking out into the wilderness weather whistle white capital A serene arrowhead lay horizontally. ... but, In the immortal wilderness-- immortal that rears its forelimbs behind loose mounds Alone against the lonely marmot playing the east wind Is it his shadow from yesterday? immortal-- That breaks through the cyclone under the high-altitude gossamer Wild geese with arrows lost in the dark, That stretches in the sweltering thorn bushes Chasing a lizard with a stone tool on its neck

Spirit of Creation Is it his shadow from yesterday? In the Immortal Wasteland. In the eternal dark night of the wasteland. The spiral staircase floating in the dark night In the restless flashing red fox, Huang Xiang, who was still in shock and retreated suddenly, The owl that comes and goes without a trace, the wild cat, that deer deer, that phosphorescence, ...But his shadow from yesterday? I don't understand forgetting. When I look back at Shanguan, The sunset is covered with feathers of five colors, ——It is a flower tomb that cherishes the spring. So, he heard it. Hear the silent shore of the Tuberts

The big prayer wheel turns its blades in great compassion. He heard the last long cry of the splintered raft. when the storm that sweeps everything sink the lighthouse into the sea, The vortex and greed reach a tacit agreement, This piece of conscience that is awake on the other side It is his only life. Here he takes off his shameful black clothes Stay at the pier and let time wash away, bleeding wound Naked in the breeze blowing by women. It's the virgin who hides her shame with the back of her hand Untie the purse from the bosom, for him Give the vanilla that protects you. ...

in the struggle between good and evil The reproduction and reproduction of love Older than the maim of death, A hundred times more brave! Yes, When the old man was about to go to heaven This is how he summoned his beloved daughter and family "Listen, you live in peace, He is your relative, your brothers, is my friend, and --son! " A regenerated smile. It is the bright moon after the robbery. I put the smiling moon, sent to that era People with an immortal conscience. Sent to tribes who have abandoned their surnames. Sent to the genera that do not leave graves. Those who possess horseback,

Those who are in awe of fish and insects. Those who love bottles. Those who dance around the campfire, Those whose eggs raised the grasslands and made pastoral songs, conqueror of beasts, patron of birds, connoisseur of smoke, Free folk favored by nature, He is the idol I follow. —Gods!Gods! The gods should be you! this smile It's my ethereal hada Send to the angle between heaven and earth The proud mast of life. To the nanny of the soul. send to you-- Little Mother of the Prairie. now Starlight guest song from Huanyu inspire me Like the frankincense of a child's skin;

branch of dawn For me to show off in joy, Decipher the muddy top-secret dumb language. You, stand on your bare toes The milk dregs are being dried on the high platform. close to your shoulders, Filaments of baby's underwear in front of the door the excitement of the flag Interpret the proverbs of all ages. Cow dung cakes plastered on the wall It is your hand-made pictograph. Gently pick off this charming rhetoric, You turn around and hand it over to the returning gentleman, Ask him to send it to the stove for storage. (I see your flickering eyelashes Like the smiling needles of the same millet and wheat;

I remember your frozen silence It is the arc light triggered by the electrode. ) That night, it was he Walk towards you rashly. To your chaste youth, To the cradle of your dreams, To the bitter fruit of your heart... With unalterable yearning or mourning, He is more fearless than death— He goes to the other side, walk towards you The favorite of the gods! He sits alone in the naked plain. At the feet, fragments of meteors still retain the kiss of heavenly fire Behind, the imaginary riverbed of nature— The Fairy of Fish and Seaweed From the Devonian to the fore, Chasing drama in the water of changing sunlight.

no tombs, eagle sky intertwined with diamond-edged rays, Until then, he didn't see you coming from Xianshan. The four hooves of the galloping horse suddenly stopped on the side of the road. The stamens swing together, for you Ring the bells of May. ——Are you unhappy?Princess of the wilderness? ...but is there a village ahead? He needn't hide those dark stories, Those gilded hoaxes, those... fairy tales, He'll tell you about that moment of madness— There was a harsh winter in that spring: grim paper hat, drunken stick, bloodthirsty cats and dogs ... It's very cold, chicks

Can't wake up a door in the dark night Shelter Mendou. He will tell you: For the brightly reappeared Kezhi, The inevitable evil wind will eventually engulf him and the sheep in the Western Paradise... He'll tell you about the old mountain It was originally an altar for mountain gods. In the autumn atmosphere, the call of swans can be heard occasionally, occasionally left on the snow field The white-lipped deer's invitation, —It was a good place there. ... ………… ………… dusk has come, Serene and soft. Daughter of Tubert, the dark grapes ponder under the stars seems to indicate to him:

--I know. I give. I do... Thus, the two Wang Qingbos who gazed at him from above Fly no more hesitating bird wings. flower magpie in the garden peacock outside the garden ——Local love song So she smiled shyly, Call back the patrol dog from the flower path, Pulling the red silk over my shoulders, Hint to this uninvited guest: --So, give you my bridle good or not? give you my pony good or not? give you my tent good or not? give you my vanilla good or not? Beautiful,— Silver earrings radiating at dusk, The oldest trophy of human conscience! Yes, in the struggle between good and evil The reproduction and planting of love Older than the maim of death, A hundred times more brave! snow line... That last silver peak is otherworldly, Become an island of crystal blue sky, Belonging to the lonely snow leopard patrolling. But at the foot of the mountain, it is a green basin of the earth, Insects flap their wings there Weaving colorful flowing wind. The shepherds went away and tore down the tabernacle, Deposit the stove group to the tired ranch. The green smoke of the dung fire seems to be calling the fermenter The aroma of koji, and the heat of the limbs under the animal skin mattress. In the valley that is not easy for outsiders to know, Has erected the shepherd's summer palace, curly-haired baby kangaroo pokes its head from the lapel of its mother's robe, Surprised at the newly assembled village in front of him. ...a deer rushes to the cliff, twisted into half a soft golden ring, Instantly dissipated with the setting sun. And a man's cry is sent from afar, The rhyme spewed from the dantian, for a long time With the sound of galloping hoofs passing through the mountains. These happy people in the mountains and valleys Protecting the foreign visitor, with their inherent generosity Never give in to those imposed worries And depressing honor and disgrace. This is the pure land of conscience. ...and behind the day It is a brilliant group of stars. A lullaby for adults rises. Muscles and bones have done their daily labor, No more sacred drunken dancing at this moment. pestle, and cream mixing bucket Finally, the splendor of ivory was also extinguished. along the river The silent fence-- Ninety nine yaks in exact isometric Walking slowly across the furry hills, walking in a row Chateau. The hearth was still awake. The flesh teased by the firelight Don't be ashamed to close your shells in your dreams. These highly perfect works of art naked as their uninhibited souls Suffering the comfort of the night. ——The nostalgia of life will be eternal and eternal... But in the dark green forest, Downhill tigers perch on cliffs, Can no longer restrain the unbearable loneliness, Flying over the thorny vine. parasitic swarm flies A crackling spark dragged from the back of the tiger Hastily—— In search of their hosts... He is the "bride" to be married! good night here For the old man's dying entrustment, For love's last copulation, He leaned against the red carpet. A shepherdess holding a incense burner Crouching at his feet, Gently blow the holy Cypress smoke. All ruthless. Everything is affectionate. smart eye is quietly examining His delicate heart. Heart swaying. Slowly drifting through the window gap More than thirty lucky New Year's Eve. ... The candlesticks are far away. Oncoming—— he saw the himalayan jungle Burn a bright waterfall rain. And sneaking in this false photo It is thousands of fiber ropes that move the prayer wheel... He replied: --"I understand. I am also willing. " Messenger of welcome Armed him in a red saddle, All the way across the Alpine Ice Slope, and Rapids canyon. Auspicious fire Has also been lit for him before sunrise. In this stone gatehouse he dismounted step on that side Sheepskins cast especially for him. From this solid ship, with hatred of all prejudice And an oath to beauty and goodness, He resolutely jumped over the stern tongue of the guardian angel in front of the door. ……Then It is the marigold of booze. is burning water. It is the butter lamp of Huatang. ... ... In the Immortal Wasteland. On the eve of that dawn in the wilderness, There was a dystocia cow Lying alone in the frozen ground. It's cold and windy, There's only one bum passing by See those eyes that ask for help Filled with two painful tears. Only he understood the specific symbolism of the teardrop. --it's time: What should be born must be born! What should be mortal must be mortal! He read the day on the knot. There, there is a pair of arms wearing jade bracelets Dig your palms into the thick walls of the night simulation, twisted braids Rub out the accumulated electric fire. In the wilderness where no blue lights are seen, A baby landed. smiling homeless man read this day, sneak in the immortal wilderness. ——You, layman in the desert, you laughed Tramp, since you are a derivative of the elements Since you are an aggregate of elementary particles, In the face of the labyrinth of material change, You seem to have no need to worry, There is no need to rejoice. you maybe once belonged to a Lying prehistoric ovulating insects; You may have belonged to a drop Melt in the ancient tripod to enjoy the gods floating fat. imagine your oxidized past life Weaved into ribbons on great dresses; I hope that your bones will die in this life It can be bred as a howling tamarisk on a sandbar. You shall be infinitely old, beyond time and space; You should be infinitely young and occupy an endless future. You belong to this macroscopic whole The sum of more and less. You are the logical choice for storm and thunder. You should only reproduce the point where this particular space-time intersects But you are a sentient creature of the star after all. It is the key of the piano intentionally conceived by the years. To inherit the ugliness not revealed by the genes, For the record-breaking struggle of life endurance, You are both the victim and the enjoyer, You are both an ascetic monk and a happy Buddha. ………… ………… Yes, in the struggle between good and evil The reproduction and reproduction of love Older than the maim of death. A hundred times more brave! when spring Ripe with the incubator, The blades of grass also pecked through the thin shell of severe winter. Is this accurate information the delirium of fools? Everything contains endless mysteries: The mantle raises mountains by motion; The halo of life dares to rival the corona; Combinations of atoms form galaxies in the microcosm; The fragrant grass lifts layers of colors out of the soil; The hedgehog is covered with sharp arrowheads... When the avenue opens green for the procession of wreaths, Another team with only names left cheered and marched in the shadows. it's time. What should be resurrected has been resurrected. What should be born has been born. And he— take off the crown of thorns Come from the wilderness, Go to each tent. He can't forget the snow mountain, the incense burner, and the peacock feathers. He couldn't forget the many eyes on the peacock's feathers. He already belongs to that sky. He already belongs to that hot land. He already belonged to the courtier who didn't have a king's wat. but me, Showing five fingers shaped like orchids Knock again on the echo in the void, Hearing the news of the defeat of the unjust once, Also can't forget all that. Yes, always, always— The reproduction and reproduction of love Older than the maim of death, A hundred times more brave!