本帖最后由 何强 于 2015-9-5 08:47 编辑
作者：何强
詩人的腳步，注定要走過春夏秋冬，去往那遙遠的第五季。
埙吹老了古槐，我聽見風碎的聲音，草露初晞
壹束光穿破黎黑的長夜，深深淺淺的顔色，壹個村莊的美麗
默默數著殘余的光景，內心靜谧如硯，魂骨已入泥
The horizon of coagulation red
Really tired - the micro prose
The author: HeQing
The poet's footsteps, doomed to walkthrough spring, summer, autumn and winter, go to the distant fifth season.
Blowing ancient old two-stringfiddle, I hear the voice of the wind chopped, grass Xi early dew A beam of light in Thomas hardyleahey of night, the color with deep light depth, the beauty of a village Silently counting the residual, innertranquility as inkstone, soul bone has been into the mud
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发表于 2015-9-5 08:45
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发表于 2015-9-5 09:13
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