May on Earth
Those roses blooming in the deep alleys
How I will sing your praises:
lingering, affectionate, warm, unrestrained
Like those reincarnated green butterflies
Dispel my desolation and loneliness:
I'm the grass that grows like May crazy
There is a heart of luxury
With the past life, with the present life
Rush to the afterlife you desire
I'm like a town in Provence on the outskirts of a town
Lavender diffused with a dark fragrance
Waiting for you
Dive into my arms
Waiting for you to dive into my empty and empty dreams—
I will exist
I will perish
Like a Harley-Davidson comet
Perish in your firmament
in your universe
I transformed into affectionate raindrops
Moisturize your buds
When the hot winds of Victoria hit
Only your hugs
can make me fall in love
Message for May
The clouds of ash are still moving
No pain, no moaning, no struggle
There is no way to escape:
At midnight at the pass
I'm just the wind, just the faint light in the wind
I lurk in the wilderness
Lurking in the depths of the moonlight
Pour out the ubiquitous sorrow in the jungle
Or in the jungle
The white eucalyptus that has been silent for a long time—
More often than not, I'm like the wind
Wander here
To describe my withering with an arrogant rhetoric
I am under the wind
The grass and trees that have been in Portugal for too long
On the manuscript paper of fate
Write about my wanderings
Write down my upheaval
Write about the extravagant hopes of my life
May on Earth
When the flowers are in full bloom, there is no desolation in the world
Just a lurk
Just a disguise
Let the camellia fall into silence
The moonlight falls into the flower branches
Imagine everything over again—
I am an ancient pottery from the Bronze Age
No one knows my dark incense
From your reverie
I am in the official kiln of the Southern Song Dynasty
Blue and white porcelain that has been smelted for a long time
With a dull texture and a lifelike green butterfly -
You are reincarnated
Hidden are the silver taels or brocade silk that you treasured in your previous life
In the hustle and bustle of the night
I hid in the snow
The empty and pure snow
Isn't it the middle of winter
The gift you stuffed into my bag
Author: Geng Bing, network name: Houde Zaiwu, post-70s, college culture, member of Jiangsu Writers Association, columnist of Reading Sleep Poetry Society. In 95, he began to publish his works, and his works were scattered in more than 100 kinds of literary publications such as "Writer's Daily" and "Poetry", and won more than 30 national awards.
Image: Photo by Reading Sleep Poet
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life. He has published a collection of poems co-authored by poets, "Reading Selected Sleep Poems: Spring Warm Flowers" and "Reading Sleep Selected Poems: The Grass Grows and the Warbler Flies". Poetry friends have been working hard, the poetry club is forging ahead, constantly innovating, recommending excellent poems, producing high-quality poetry collections, reciting excellent works, recommending poets' works in various forms, so that more people can read excellent works and appreciate poetry culture, we are on the move!