Such a blue sky is spreadin' o'er me
With open my arms I'll go to meet thee
Dandelions are in bloom there and here
I picked and sowed the seeds last year
Murmurin' "Nothin' comes of nothin'"

The moon shines with winter sky palely
The electric wires are gliittering tautly
Nature complains of sadness to Deities
With the insistent beat of cold winds

If I am alone, it will smile
If I'm gazing, it will smell of the soul
While I make smiling face,
It will beckon me
Opening the sexual organ
Of a dark night by the middle finger
A white bone

I become the soul
By the lonly heart
Come out of the window
At twelve midnight.
It is snowy storm
The town closes its eyes
Shadow of death appears.
The ground is frozen over
And howl.

The frozen shadow
Of the lofty building
Falls suddenly,
And wraps me.
Street's footsteps
Shake like tinnitus
Tired people, take me
Toward the night river

I image of death on my breast,

Cold wind! the wind is crying
Look! a bird have wings torn
Alas! the bird is dying

Then winter has come
It snows my mind numb
There's a withered tree

The shrike executed catch

Today also
Night comes
To embrace me.
Since to be gripped by the finger,
My concreteness becomes ambiguous.
Hot breaths are
Smeared with shadow.
Night moves
And I groan

My exit

Listening rainy sound,
My lonly heart bound
Hasty rain drops dance,
On the cast-iron fence
Cheshire cat's gazing at it,
Giving milk to a kit
Tea pot is hissing
All this while.......

When I look into blue eye of the girl
The innerside is the real sea, I believe
Her lips trembles, it's sound of waves
Dividing her lips with my third finger,

A night bird had uttered ill omened cry before;

This midnight, the wind and the snow blowing

I again hear the bird crying, it's like splitting

You disclose me a lot of your secret
But don't make the deepest clean breast,
Like a gravedigger burying the dead,
With false tears in looking much sad

I think these are my days

Look up the distant sky snowing
The body is inhaled to far away
Tears look like mercury
If you feel bein' solitary
Open hand, touch the snow
Clean up living in sorrow!
Run out with singing

A starvelling baby on my top is kicking my head:
Slapping his buttocks, "No more of that!",
I should ought to scold severely so, or
I should ought to resign my mind that

Belated rainy season has set in
Crimson roses are in the rain
The petals are falling now and then
The rural blue perspective so deepen

Being exposed to the rain,
A travelar thinks of his home

That was a hot summer day
A road white brilliantly far away,
Yet my home country were weeping
'Cause you returned home in dying
You were sleeping under the new tomb