Moss slips
A masked man exposes pale teeth
The bird of wind twitters under eaves
The wet road
would lead to whose tongue today
An anonymous song is barely audible
You wander in a dream riding a bicycle
Blueberries of rain get into a basket
Willow branches knot, inextricable
Began to plot from early morning
tracking how the dusk fall
The hot youth
is hard to tell, which is the sun
which is charcoal fire, which is tinker
Afternoon, the song half sung
suddenly opens its crystal eyes
In the garden of swimsuit
who may coach you
the sutra of erotic fitness
While at the midpoint of life
encountering love is the fate
encountering storm is also the fate
The earth has enough tan complexion
May you cherish the summer afterheat
stand by your fall
If an apple is green
it would turn to red in sunset
hanging between your eyebrows