1我听到陶在叫。说不清是墙头的陶罐,还是墙角的陶缸,抑或草堆里的一把陶壶。叫声尖锐刺耳,像黑夜里一个逃亡的灵魂,突然被月光的暗器刺中。这荒废的院落里静悄悄的。草已枯萎,木已腐朽,石头长满皱纹。自从岁月教会它们闭嘴,它们再也没有了开口的勇气,或者根本找不到开口的理由。一把镰抱紧身体里的锈,像抱紧一个秘密,它不 I heard Tao called. Can not tell is the wall of the pottery, or corner of the pottery, or haystack in a clay pot. Screaming sharp ears, like a runaway soul in the night, suddenly stabbed in the moonlight hidden weapon. This deserted courtyard quietly. The grass has withered, the wood has decayed, and the stone is full of wrinkles. Since the years taught them to shut up, they no longer have the courage to speak or find no reason to speak. A sickle hugs the rust in the body, like a secret, it does not