He's never cried
And already let the dark night
Slip off a paper white
For many times
The autumn wind instantly blows off
The light of a lamp
While my heart is still barren
And lit with a shame
By the name of faintness
From those verses
Release
The souls of the dead
How much flame
A poet's body could ever have
When burning
It whines as Xun's wail
Some beings
Settle down
In the lit starry sky
With a smile he walks up to
That gust of wind
Which is going to ruin him
他一直没有哭
他已经让黑夜在
白纸上 闪过
许多次
秋风瞬间熄灭了
一盏灯
而我内心的荒芜依然
耻辱地亮着
一个诗人体内到底有多少
火焰
燃烧时发出埙的
哀鸣
以微弱的名义
超度
那些诗句里的`
亡灵
一些生灵在
被点亮过的星空里
安家
他
微笑着走向熄灭他的
那阵风
