Prose poem "Star Moon"
Brutal bird with wings, even on the branches on the nest.
Yangchun and March are all in pairs, and I am alone on the trail.
The trail is long, and my heart wanders.
Strong said spring wind swallow, intended to be light and crazy and vast.
Since leaving home, a serious year.
I can't find myself, I can't find my red face.
One person is tired of the scenery, counting the stars and sleeping alone with the moon.
![The starry sky under Van Gogh's brush, the testimony of hope and dream, the master and the madman are just a line apart[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)