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 Wheat Is Still Golden After Being Cut Privets or ash trees 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 ...