"Read poetry for you." Across half of China to sleep with you.

No butterfly Kisses, flowers are lonely

Without the thirst of knives, the wood is lonely

Without your Burning, love is lonely

Well, strike me, with your lips, and smile

Don't leave me, swim in the loneliness

--Lark, Smile ⅰ〉

In the name of the poem 〉〉 Love Will come, in the right time

And the words are so cold
"Why don't we Hug"
Because
I think that I have already
I love you too much

--Robing, 〈air〉

In the name of the poem 〉〉 hug your melting ice system warm song list

When I say the word "future",
The first sound is the past.

When I say the word "silence,"
I broke it.

When I say the word "no",
I'm in a fabrication.

--〈 three strangest words Simpo silk card

In the name of the poem 〉〉 grasp the moment, don't let Life be "future" kidnapping

In fact, sleep you and be You sleep is the same, nothing but
The force of two bodily collisions is nothing more than the blooming flower
It's the flowers that make the virtual spring that makes us think that life has been reopened.

Half of China, everything is happening: The volcano is spraying, the river is dry
Some political prisoners and displaced persons who are not concerned
All the way in the muzzle of the elk and the red-crowned cranes

I'm going to sleep you through the bullets.
I put countless nights into a dawn to sleep on you
I am the countless I run into one I go to sleep you

Of course, I'll be led astray by some butterflies.
Take some compliments as spring
Think of a village similar to Hengdian as home

And they
That's why I'm sleeping.

--Yu Shuhua, "through half of China to sleep you"

Yu Shuhua was a former Chinese poet with a violent red brain palsy. Poetry is not only beautiful, but also the pain of beauty. Write about the forgotten bottom of China, calm the lust of women. The depiction of love and sex, the direct challenge to gender norms, and the depth of pen flicks come from a frail body. But her heart is stronger than the whole of China.

On women's Day, dedicate to you the tenacity of women in the grass root, poetry to the patriarchal imprisoned women's female soul and lust, she can, we can.

〉〉 Women in the name of poetry , you can define yourself

You've made up your mind already.
To make a dull golden
It's been a long time, a small, tiny explosion.
It's always been like old
The old Story
Can say many times
A lot of taste
can understand many times
The so-called old
There's probably something very simple going on all the time.
For example, Autumn rain is blowing in the winter wind
These are already in your heart.
You're just waiting for your heartbeat.

--Yeqing 〈laphroaig〉, "The next Life more decision"

in the mind think again, think again, these small theater you have tacitly Chibai, love, you are just waiting for their heartbeat.

In the name of poetry 〉〉 hear you enthusiasts to yourself