春天蚂蚁在一坨干牛粪的天底下张开露珠的眼睛。霞光的手指,潮湿的地气,扶起小草稚嫩的腰肢。那些走遍天涯的云朵依然匍匐在岁月的河底。被大鸟驮走的亲人没有下落。海浪窒息的灵魂被一一捞起。我的大脑翻腾伤残的翅翼。每一座雪山卧着洁白的马匹。风的大手一次次捡走世界的败叶残枝,也撕咬笼罩人间的冰冷黑衣。阴天 Spring ants in the dry cow dung under the sky open dew eyes. Rays of light fingers, damp gas, propped grass tender young waist. Those clouds all over the world still prostrate in the river of years. The relatives who were taken by the bird did not fall. The suffocating soul was picked up one by one. My brain tosses the disabled wings. Every white snow mountain lying white horses. Once again, the wind picked up the hands of the world’s defeated leaves, but also bite enveloped the world’s cold black. cloudy day