本帖最后由 高彰远 于 2023-12-18 13:38 编辑
我们总是说及归宿 说着说着 叶子红了,秋水更远
我召唤风,做我的剪刀 把体内仅存的语辞 进行修饰 让它带给你阳光般的温暖
胸中点墨蘸一场秋雨 如眼目奔涌的湖水 支撑这辽阔的蔚蓝 山脚下草场低伏的羊群 正等待自由写意
忽然传来布谷鸟的叫声 一抬头,便是人间的烟火 2023/10/13
Lose trace and back away to lead a solitary life in a seclusive place.
We are always talking of mortality, Leaves turn red while we are talking, the water of autumn is much farther away from here.
I call the wind, in order to use it to be my scissors, To use the only words left in my mind To be decorative embellishment, It brings you warmth, as bright as sunshine.
Write down an autumn rain in ink from the bottom of my heart, Just like pouring waves of the lake out of my eyes, Hold up the wide, clear and blue sky. A flock of sheep is walking slowly on the grass at the foot of the hill, Waiting for freehand brushwork.
All of a sudden, I heard a cuckoo, As I raised my head, I found the hustle and bustle of life.
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