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Low Water · 枯水

201810272345

Hang Zhang
在一张冰冷的椅子上 我写下无人阅读的诗歌 期待风闭起眼睛高声朗诵
那些将要呼啸而过的词语 彼此穿插 顺着太阳背阴 顽强地朝西行进
他们会在你的夜晚结束之前到达 部分消逝于你的梦境边缘 只给你留下一个半睡半醒的疑虑
On an ice-cold chair I wrote down poems which nobody would read Expect wind recites loudly with closing eyes
Those words which will whiz by Interweave with each other Along the dark side of the sun Move towards west tenaciously
They would arrive before the end of your night Some disappear at the edge of your dream Leave you a half awake half asleep doubt