three hundred villages begin to devour the moonlight again autumn wind blows, stones in the stream are called stones once more the government works on accounts, white clouds unload a year of bacteria broad-leafed forests quarrel no more, major roads are wide and smooth my motherland has a clear heart in the cool water in the interior of poetry, some words also turn red and even fall down, which are solemn, homing and serene with stride after stride on the mountain, you are the King this month frogs are wearing shoes, and hermits have spread wedding beds I have numerous home letters sent to distant places at the same time
a story happened in my heart: after a pirate plundered a grande dame, unexpectedly they led a happy life the pirate smoothed her blood circulation with his chest hair that swayed in the wind on this shore, her husband still hurt without appetite for food and looked into the mirror as if he would die of grief
today is Saturday, the day for the world to rest, but on crossed roads monkeys nip corns in the park, boys and girls whisper sweet nonsense sitting in a daze before the computer, I imagine chopping around in the air and let some irregular joys come to my mind
"The blind man looking into the mirror is the man who finally obtains the truth in the mirror." Yesterday I finally made this statement once more. But at the earliest time, it went like this: "The blind man looking into the mirror is the reflection wanted by the mirror." Last year, I actually modified it like this: "The blind man looking into the mirror is the most perfect man wanted by the mirror."
totally naked on the island, suddenly I grow a swaying tail similar to an enemy of the people the supper in my heart also calls birds and beasts together I eat winds and worms dropping from the sky hold pebbles as if carrying dinosaur eggs breed tigers, let stones bite whomever they like and suddenly have a strange idea about my fate I am just a country with its territory and imaginary enemies its state banks and warning lines the crabs on the shore are such and such masked men I put Chinese on the list of minority languages singing alone like a dictator, a king ruling the whole country
