Han Bing, whose real name is Liu Gaoju, and whose pen name is Dai Hai, is a member of the Chinese Poetry Society. In 1988, he began to publish literary works, and won the "People's Liberation Army Daily" Loyal Defender Essay Award, the Legal Daily Reportage Essay Award, the Inner Mongolia Daily Reportage Essay Award, the first "Swan Cup" Small Fiction Essay Contest In Inner Mongolia, his works were selected into various anthologies, and he published the poetry collection "The Sky of low groans", and now lives in Beijing.
Sometimes something comes to mind
Distant and fragmented
In fact, it is not very memorable
But tenaciously hidden in the depths of time
There are fewer heads and tails
Except for some pieces
The complete process is no longer recoverable
Just to make me smile heartily
Even those long-lasting pains
The healing wounds are still striking
I don't dwell on it anymore
Life is high enough to let go of everything
Joy and frustration
These are the past buried in the depths of the soul
Now it's my long-lost relative
The temperature is far better than life in the moment
A man's vastness
I read the sky from the extension of the eagle's wings
I read the sky from the fullness of a grain of barley
I read the vastness from the gallop of a horse
I read from a bag, a mani stone
I read even more from the direction of the river and the hardness of the wind
In the vastness of a man, sometimes
A drop of water, a flower is also a blank
It's just that the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau never says itself to be vast
The heavenly Alxa does not say that it is the sky
Boundless in the sky
I don't know if I'm micro or macro
Actually, it's vast
It was never in my sight
Nameless flowers
On the prairie, many flowers
And no pretty name
There is also no need for deliberate attention
It just bloomed so wantonly
There is spring breeze, there is morning dew, there is sunshine
The fragrance will be brilliant to the vast
These are flowers as small as a thumb or a wine bottle
These morning sunshine are full of flowers
These flowers do not need to be cultivated and modified
The simple one makes me except kind
Noble makes me in addition to admiration
There is no other rhetoric to choose from
And I'm on this prairie
One of many nameless flowers
I have lived with the circumstances until now
The blacksmith shop, waiting for the arrival of a horse
I haven't heard the sound of iron strikes in many years
In the old city of Kashgar
A blacksmith's shop is on fire
The electric hammer is evenly paced
The iron in the fire jaws was repeatedly searching
Be in the right place
The Abdul Kerim brothers were seriously putting a piece of iron
Forge into your own warm life
And the good horseshoe
It is placed in front of the Visualizer
Wait for a horse to arrive
Let me embrace this belated snowfall
Under a gloomy sky
We were all waiting for a snow to come
The flying snowflakes do not speak
Quietly pounced on my face and cried bitterly
Then it undulates over the undulating wilderness
At the moment a horse was standing in the snow
Look at the white ridge in the distance
I shouted, and the horse didn't respond
Snow on the mane fell to the ground
The silence crushed a heavy snow into the night
There is also a horse's yearning for galloping
Now the snow has passed over my ankles
The wind was tickling my ribs
I embraced the snow as part of my body
How much I wished it had been after a snow
The sorrow of the earth can be healed
Including those black pains
An anchor lies in the park
An anchor lay calmly in a corner of the park
It's because injuries are being put here
Or to highlight the city's characteristics of the mountain and the sea
The dark iron glowed with the luster of the once sea
Silence is as thick as the earth
Tall banyan tree
Flowers and plants with colorful butterflies fluttering overhead
And there's the sound of the river rocking
A must-have view in these parks
To one alone in it
An anchor that has experienced rough seas doesn't make any sense
It's pedestrians coming and going
Even if you stop for leisurely or hurried footsteps
Nor do they understand the sadness of an anchor that cannot hear the waves
I'm alone, right
The salt-soaked iron became interested
An anchor far from the sea
Loneliness makes silence unusually profound
A mountain beam with only one tree
The trees are the scenery
The mountain beams are also landscapes
In fact, they are the scenery of each other
The snow line in the distance is superfluous
Wandering clouds are also superfluous
At this moment, I am also superfluous
There is only loneliness and emptiness
Not much more
I want to sit down in the wind of my hometown
I want to sit down in the wind of my hometown
This is an idea that has only been around in recent years
It's not because of the tiredness of wandering
Nor is it because of the flow of years
With more capital and calmness in life
It's just because the mind is empty
Just sit back
There will be grassy, floral, and wheat grains
Coming
These are mixed with earthy aromas
Made me down-to-earth, kind and quiet
In fact, the wind does not have a homeland
Just because I look back and stop
My hometown has become the hometown of the wind
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