清晨,在闪着鸟啼的薄雾中散步,当脚底明显地踩着软泥和青草——这大地最鲜嫩的皮肤,她沾着露珠,像受惊的伤口微微发颤,你的心猛然揪紧,你会想起:下面,埋葬着诗人。说话、欢笑、做梦、哭泣、歌唱、相爱……大地上一切被赋予了音乐性的元素,一切红蓝闪电般的激情移动,一切高亢的伸长的优美,一切自由勇敢的“人”的生活,皆和诗的灵魂有关。只要一想到: 我们正梦着他们的梦,主张着他们的主张,忧伤着他们的忧伤……只要一想到: 我们正散步在他们曾散步的地方,散步在他们尸骨的髓气和光焰之上,散步在昨天他们搭起 In the early morning, take a walk in the mist of birds, when the soles of the feet are obviously stepping on the slime and green grass - the freshest of the earth’s skin, she is moistened with dew and shuddered like a frightened wound, Tight, you will think: Here, buried the poet. Talking, laughing, dreaming, weeping, singing, falling in love ... Everything on the earth has been given the element of musicality, all the red and blue lightning moves passionately, all hyperactive exquisite grace, all free and brave Life, are all related to the soul of poetry. Just think of it: We are dreaming of their dreams, asserting their claims and grieving over their sadness ... Just think of it: We are walking where they had walked and walking on the pith and flames of their bones They walked on the walk yesterday