Mylonelinessisagarden(我的孤独是一座花园)

2023年12月2日发(作者：倪雅伦)

My loneliness is a garden（我的孤独是一座花园）

Loneliness is a garden, but there is only one tree in it.

Despair has fingers but it can only catch dead butterflies.

And the sun shall be clothed with light, even in sorrow.

Death comes from behind even though it ems to come from the

front:

The front only belongs to life.

Insanity is a child, playing the best game in a garden of reason.

Time:

Float in joy, deposit in sorrow.

There is a harp forgotten, memory to u it to play silent

sorrow.

The world made me black and blue, but the wound is wings.

The darkness that strikes me makes me brighter.

Loneliness is also a ladder I climb to the light.

Poetry, the pontoon bridge between your puzzling lf and the

world you don't understand.

Fear not only the devil, but also the angels. Angels are the most likely to suddenly turn into demons in all

things.

Empty handed, yet your hands keep falling off of you: time.

Childhood is the force that makes you able to endure in old age.

The night sleeps on my pillow, but I sleep alone.

Death can only be conquered in one way:

Try to change the world before death.

Sin: another kind of prai for freedom.

Follow with another name: cage.

Poetry does not walk unless it is on the edge of an abyss.

No matter where we are, there is earth accompanied, that is the

eternal meeting; no matter where we are, there is time to

accompany, that is the eternal farewell.

The most distant light is clor to us than the darkness nearest

us:

Distance is usually only myth.

No, life is giving orders. Death is a faithful record keeper.

Happiness has wings, but it has no body; sorrow has a body, but

it has no wings.

Kneeling, the darkness was born; standing erect, the light was

born.

The flower is a ason in the eye, the fragrance is a ason

in the heart.

Yes, the light will kneel, that is facing another light.

And the sun shall be clothed with light, even in sorrow.

Darkness is the tyrant that surrounds us. Light is the knight

who comes to rescue.

Death comes from behind even though it ems to come from the

front:

The front only belongs to life.

There is a harp forgotten, memory to u it to play silent

sorrow.

Your childhood was a small village, but you couldn't walk out

of it, no matter where you traveled.

You won't be an oil lamp unless you carry the night on your

shoulder.

Perhaps the light will mislead you; but if it does happen, do not think it is the sun's fault.

The dust of the wind, but the glory of the sky.

Woman, her fragrance the air body becomes tall.

Even the sun itlf can only light the things that accept the

light.

Women come up to me -- in the form of an abyss, she has reached

one of my heights.

The silence of a ro is the call, not the ear, but the eye.

You're right, bat!

- darkness is a comfort, light is a torment.

The most painful is not the walls of the prison.

The wind has no clothes; time has no shelter; they are the two

poor people who have the whole world.

Perhaps the ocean of language lies hidden in the waves of

silence.

The stone and the wings are twin brothers in the womb of the

poem.

Aroma is a song without words.

You mean what you become.

If there must be sorrow, then tell your sorrow:

Let it hold a bunch of ros forever.

The most beautiful place for a ro to travel is the realm of

eyes.

Dreams grow up, but in the direction of childhood.

Ro, blue is a corner, in joy, is a green light.

Every great work can always lead to order and chaos.

Happiness comes to me in flocks, but only in my fantasy.

Your true triumph lies in the constant destruction of your

Triumphal Arch.

My motherland and I are in the same yoke. How can I be parated

from my motherland?

How can I not love my motherland?