信 徒
死亡是一种美妙的感觉。死过一回的人
认为花瓶已碎,喂鸟的容器
是一串字符组合
他们站着看海,脸很年轻,他们还以为鸟儿
和沙漠,喝足了水
天空如此之低,树木
绑在悬崖上,将摆脱它们的雾。一堆空盒子
表明我们不是其中
任何一个。追随一种体制,将信徒送上不归路
拴在柱子上的马,将不再是马
某种东西,一个悬念
一种纯粹的设想
这个冬天,安.兰德忙于撰写《我们活着的人》
而铜制的孩子们
信仰已成熟,他们渴望像鸟
站着睡。漫步的雪人
几乎被风的手揉皱
Followers
Death is a fantastic feeling, a person, dead and back
believe the vase which feeding bird has broken
is a string of characters
they stood and looked at the sea, their faces were young, and they assumed the birds
and the desert to drink enough water
The sky is so low, the trees
tied to the cliff, will shake off their fog, a pile of empty boxes
indicate that we are not one of them
following a social system that lets believers to no return
like a horse tied to the pillar, no longer a horse
Something, a suspense
a pure idea
This winter, Ann Rand is busy writing 《the people we live》
Children made of copper
faith is ripe, they desire likely a bird
standing to sleep. nearly, the stroll snowman
has been wrinkled by the wind hand
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