Every week at this time, I long for you to leave a time for yourself, the absence of the reality of the turmoil, the woman fans only read poems for you.
Lovers ' rooms play all kinds of music
The keyboard whispers in the desktop, the fridge shakes and sings
The fan whistled for the trivial conversation on the table ant class
The emptiness is growing with the noise
A quiet voice does not speak. Occasionally tell loneliness,
Afraid of the dark, and sleep late.
We often imagine another big room.
Could settle for more life, and berth the daily rush of
The corner can place a larger bookcase
Store knowledge, collect memory;
A museum, or a mental hospital.
Lovers always keep their voices down in the morning dreams
Wash up yesterday, put on a new day
I was too late to have a sunrise,
Join the City of Sleepy
Lovers always, for me to add a kiss of honey
Make me sleep, let me do the unfinished dream for him
--Zhang Yaoren, in the lover's room
In the name of poetry , the best place to hide in 〉〉 city
Image source: Teddy Valdermar
But, I always feel
We try too hard to please time
Too dependent on the non-existent
An omnipresent bystander.
--Luo Zhicheng, the Book of the Baby
〉〉 slow down in the name of poetry , with more
May your world be more peaceful than mine.
May your ship be splashed.
Every waterfall hides a rainbow
May you tread on the wings of the insect
They all turn into flower leaves.
--Ming Ren Letter, "Bury the Sea"
In the name of the poem 〉〉 I am in a faraway place, bless you
Image source: Evon Barker
All of them are searching for themselves
Find lost, or dug up a point to wake up more of their own ...
Every butterfly is the incarnation of Romeo's Love,
And each flower is nothing but Juliet Shanyan projection;
When the two meet unexpectedly,
Then drunk dream of the strong to put you and me, me and you.
--Zhou, tacit understanding
In the name of poetry 〉〉 turned, is to meet with their own
Image source: Jeanie Armour
The summer hydrangea, there are thousands of species of blue, thousands of purple
Coastal Highway clouds, there are thousands of stubborn, thousands of species Mei
The sail passed 100, and then
The lighthouse has been lit for 100 nights.
The sound of Thunder and lightning has thousand rings
Layers of waves, and the sound of all kinds of heart sounds to the shore
Stranger, in this town of the sea
You wave, there are thousands of species
And I have only one love
--Chen Yiwen, embroidered flower
Want to forget not happy, want to remember their time, go to travel.
In the name of the poem 〉〉 enjoy it, a person's travel
Image source: Hoang Kim Dung