A Little Bird
Winter,
hazy, heavy, epidemic
The bird died at nightfall
It took its curtain call
When evening descended
Natural, peaceful, at the stairs, a little sad
It was no longer lonely. I picked it up, went downstairs
And buried it, beside the stairs
The instant it died, it was pretty elegant, deserving the reputation of
A good bird
Burying it beside the stairs
Smoothing the soil, and scattering some dead branches
Then I went upstairs
And continued
With my drinking
The bird died at nightfall
It took its curtain call
When evening descended
Natural, peaceful, at the stairs, a little sad
It was no longer lonely. I picked it up, went downstairs
And buried it, beside the stairs
The instant it died, it was pretty elegant, deserving the reputation of
A good bird
Burying it beside the stairs
Smoothing the soil, and scattering some dead branches
Then I went upstairs
And continued
With my drinking
Swaying slightly in the hot air
I look at the wheat fields
The village is not beautiful
Apart from this, the wheat fields are still golden after being cut
I discard bad words
For accurate expression
The Qinling Mountains are dark azure
Because of complex clouds
Happiness comes from shouting
Apart from this
What else
A trickle of water
A silly crowing bird
Hiding in leaves and I say: this is not art
Flying behind my head
It touches my hair and hides in leaves again
A fat man runs slowly past me and says
It’s not bad, man. It’s only torture
That makes a man relatively able to climb
Apart from this
Just a field of golden wheat
I wish and I intend
If my love is around
I’ll become a naturalist in a heartbeat
Baring my carcass
Making love
As well as lyricizing
Art is a pair of eyes
With half a gesture added at most
No need for words
Or any
Obscene words