Zhu Zhu's personal works

Rain Water

Time and salt

I want to fall in love with you briefly in this world.

Light a kitchen cigarette and have a bite of yellow rice.

And grow old separately.

I choose to die in autumn.

Die in a cold place in the north

If possible

I don't want to leave a will.

Don't say goodbye to the world

I don't want to speak my mind.

For example, when people talk about prosperity,

I won't say I don't like the world.

I want to fill my pocket with the crow's shadow.

Maweiwei

I want to lie in a book.

Let you light me with a match.

Ignite my tired and humid life

If you can have a tombstone.

I hope this is written on it.

"He left this world.

Finally realized the best dream of his life. "

It suddenly occurs to me

I have to admit that life is impermanent

But it's beautiful after all.

So do the people I love.

Life is short, such as fleeting.

If you don't believe me,

Open the history, the names of all the dead and the mistakes they made.

When I wrote more than 300 love letters to the second woman, they loved other dead people.

The world has been lost in praise.

The fruit on the bridge is still a moonlight distance from the bridge.

Women who collect love can't sleep at night.

Connected to a flower during the day, languishing in the fragrance.

She refused to believe that everything was universally related.

The crow hid its black color and the wind began to converge its wings.

A book is opened by itself.

An ant crawls along the second chapter and stops under Rilke.

Spring is so ancient.

All her colors are old.

But I still

Draw hope on paper

Absorb the wind from the wound of campanula.

I also drew white seagulls and sailboats.

"I also like Seaman's love.

Kiss and leave in a hurry. "

The red-footed bonito, which is only one step away from love, is just like me.

I like being far away from land and close to the sea.

Imagined marine climate allergy,

I also like the newly planted trees in front of the door.

They will turn green and fall asleep at the funeral.

Page 679

How bright the sun is, this is the cemetery by the sea, just in time.

It was probably summer, before I fell asleep.

I was very happy then.

Tooth pain persists, and there is no rain and overnight food in the tooth cavity.

So is the north wind.

This winter is more changeable and colder.

My dream village is short of clothes, and some elderly people are dying.

On the way to work

I can hear concrete birds singing and abstract screams.

Under the pen, Fiona Fang covers an area of one square kilometer.

Stray dogs have inappropriate sex.

What a hurry under the bleak branches in winter.

Those footprints are all snow. A patient called.

He has been wandering on the train from Bayannaoer to Beijing recently.

Open the door, check in, and boil water.

Fall asleep when you are tired. To be alive or be alive.

He is happy, and his world is orderly, like a straight railroad track.

However, the world is still absurd and unbelievable.

Contradictory and irreconcilable blood flows in the body of potato pickers.

The dirty canvas is full of fruits of anxiety.

Calm brown land, and

The sower is happy, so am I.

Drinking and writing meaningless articles every afternoon.

Observe people, ants and plants who are naturally indifferent.

Idle or spend time skillfully on the stage.

Live like a river, keep balance with the coast, and then

Died like an alcoholic Raymond Carver and lived 686 pages.

There is wine on almost every page. How happy I am

He also has two wives, a daughter and a son. When I was alive

He also took time to read a lot of books and looked very happy.

It seems to bring happiness to many people.

Chaplin is a seriously ill man, and I

Carefree. Why not write a novel?

Write a sad person and his tangled heart.

I can't hold myself tight from behind.

You can't cry.

Give your right hand to your gentle left hand.

Talking to myself, I'm talking about loving myself.

I can't jump from the seventeenth floor.

You can't stop the moving train.

I told myself over and over again

I'm not depressed, it's just.

I've been playing as an adult for too long and I'm a little tired.

Put an ant in your nearest ear.

Take the risk of finding that talkative elf.

I am kind and know how to feel sorry for myself.

Next time it rains heavily, I will burst into tears.

Whenever it rains, I will cry.

With the thunder, I still have to sob and cry.

Sister, isn't this better than traveling or climbing mountains? Rivers and lakes have dried up. This summer,

Liangshan heroes rushed back to the Song Dynasty overnight for the summer.

The pony and carriage rocked all the way.

I said goodbye to Yan Qing.

After a few drinks.

I'm suddenly getting old.

I doubt that I am a national.

Dragon Boat Festival is coming.

Why did I dream of a strange name, Qu Yuan?

Maybe I should learn to swim first.

Learn to hit the water halfway, and the waves will stop the flying boat.

The piano on the altar became a loud sound.

Some piano sounds are disappearing.

The red cliff is engraved with the words "Wildfire never devours them, and the spring breeze blows high".

Eleven powerful words

Describes how lies in history are endless, but

I can't explain grass, food and birds in detail.

Running water, and a sheep that has only gone astray.

Honey, in fact, I can't explain the innocent spring breeze and wildfire.

How sad they are.

How to be submerged by a poem for a long time

And the rivers and lakes I want to express are not all burnout, hesitation, nothingness and injury.

And fear, worry, alliance and betrayal.

Maybe love and hope.

Those hopes, you know, are just a little wait.

Is to spend your whole life thinking about a woman

Think about her slowly.

As time goes by, in my personal history.

She represented Wei and Jin dynasties with absolute beauty, and one day I will be unable to write anything.

Then how can I miss you?

In other people's poems, all I see is the floating light on the water.

For example, reading the distance of Avi, tonight.

But I can't share her loneliness, joys and sorrows more deeply.

A good book or a good poem may only bring me a key.

I spun it, eager to enter a strange room.

Actually, that's my house.

There are my teenagers, my birds, my running water and my relatives.

There are still relics of the old times in the house.

There is love, tears and pride, which I have long forgotten.

But I can't easily push the door in. I am my stranger.

I'd rather stay on the steps and smoke.

Daydream with other people's experience and make up a poem.

I don't want to enter that desolate, silent and dusty house.

I'm afraid I've been struggling with the past for a long time.

One day I will not be able to write anything.

Then what would I think of you? My wife is also a barber. She cut my hair short.

My eyebrows, I looked at the distant scene. I can only see my woman when I open my eyes.

See her, see the memory under the river bank.

My wife is also a poet, prostitute, waiter and nurse.

He is also a teacher, a civil servant and a corpse driver.

My lover also died in the sea in bed, and she salvaged the empty time of life.

My love is also gently covered by the net of the world.

Her singing is soft, her tears are complete, and her life experience is bumpy.

My lover has picked the moon, and she has soft hands on her tongue.

My lover's tears are salty, too

She has all the waves, her own and the sea's.

My wife has lived in an alley all her life.

I haven't had time to name it, the alley under the street lamp.

The wind swept her skirt, her teenager, her mother's smoke.

My wife is good at dancing, writing and cursing by herself. she

Talk to the mirror and get more than half of the sex. One day, you start by copying a poem.

On her soft ring finger

I signed my name, and I gently opened a poem.

Her height and complicated personality.

The sadness in her body, the inexplicable ventriloquism.

Behind her is a person, a group of people and barren sea water and a large area of land.

I also completely copied her foreign accent.

Her unique clothes and her secret sex.

Maybe I was wrong. I have been lost in a poem since early morning.

I saw the world in her.

The world is made up of sound. I can see the carriage passing through the old streets of19th century.

Watch the river whimper and the green leaves ache.

A young girl grows old with the window. Her tone deteriorated, but her relatives didn't notice it.

I saw the cold sound of barber's scissors.

The train rumbles, the horseshoes are light and the geese are ethereal.

I can see death, its voice is quiet, and life is in vain.

Those days are fleeting, the sweet whispers of lovers

Tears wet the cheeks, the children were playing with iron rings, and the pens fell on the paper.

Many small and loud sounds are fleeting before our eyes, just like the wind.

A poem makes a faint sound to time.

If I fall in love with someone else's motherland because of plagiarism

For example, I fell in love with Russia in February and Pasternak.

Fall in love with beautiful and quiet foreign women.

Her lips are rich and enchanting, and the sound of rubbing upper and lower eyelashes is touching.

If I kiss her, I will be imprisoned in a water dungeon without stars for treason.

I will still copy a sad poem, such as Hamlet.

I will still see ants moving sunlight underground, and the rain will quietly blend into the lake and steal your plum blossoms. In his life, Mr. Wang gently put down and painted many windows-like Fang Gezi, which filled the time of falling into daily necessities overnight, and then painted countless lights, random happiness, the way out every second, people who stayed behind, rain, scissors with melancholy spring breeze, a rope matured in autumn, and died at the age of 48. Neither too early nor too late. I rode my bike from Unity Street to Friendship Street. I don't remember what drying means. Maybe it is losing water like leaves, vines and trees, or falling into a well in childhood. Then, sitting still is either the chair losing water or the people in the chair losing water. Make up some sections. Dude, "sit in the mirror where you often sit" and draw you a cup and fill it with water. Maybe it's water that makes you happy. There is also pain. You can draw pain on dehydrated paper, draw a dehydrated face, draw Nanshan, and draw the thin back of ordinary people disappearing into the mirror.

Sir, although dangerous things are beautiful, it is better to ride back and dream of tired mountain roads. Your sister, tell me the good news of your marriage. I tossed and turned, full of sadness. The stiff-necked hero twisted his dream and lost a lot of snow in gambling with Sancho overnight. Why can't he be as willful and frivolous as the world? Love a person enough is enough. She married in a foreign country. Dowry is the well water on the earth. 27 trees represent her good years. Dress up carefully, clean the mirror and hair, caress her lips, count her fingers one by one, choose a tall and slender platinum diamond, and let her keep secrets other than the world of mortals alone. With your married carriage, you are happy and sad, and the autumn wind hides your tears and joy. Since then, the world has become warmer and sadder.

Dreaming of the tired mountain road, you look very handsome. You were so proud and silent when you got married. You walked quickly. Autumn is my favorite season. Many people don't write poems.

Just as happy or sad.

You should have sex as usual, have sex.

Eat and drink the same, talk about all kinds of men and women.

Also died in bed, in the street, at sea or elsewhere.

Do people who write poems feel sadder?

When they see similar words, they will have a clearer understanding of themselves or their lives?

No, I lived for forty years. I have read many other people's poems.

But it didn't bring anything to my life.

My life is still a mess.

I am still vulgar, and I live without poetry.

Magpies crow overhead in the morning, and I am still full of confidence in life.

In the evening, I walked home along an asphalt road.

Looking through the blue bass area, watching the rain fall.

The probability that Baotou's mobile phone was struck by lightning last year was one in two million.

So far this year, and every time people and mobile phones die.

So I carefully turned off my cell phone and recalled the past.

I am Su Like Dongpo, an ancient poet.

Occasionally, I like Xin Qiji, Nalan Rong Ruo, Yi 'an laity and so on.

There are no trains, no cars and no cell phones.

Poets lead a slow life, good or bad.

Many people have lost their loved ones because of the distance and communication difficulties.

I can't help crying at the thought of it.

I also miss an old horse. It is faithful and reliable.

Run between a and b with the letter.

At night, when the rain stopped, I felt particularly depressed.

Why do you always live in the shadow of death?

Worry, worry that a beautiful poem will be unrecognizable in the blink of an eye.

There are many absurd things in the world that always make me yearn for.

Everyone in the Eastern Jin Dynasty died, leaving no one behind.

As Sue said, whether you write poetry or not, you are a poet.

Is that really the case?

Actually, I don't have many quirks.

I have all the characteristics of a mediocre man except writing poems.

Of course, they have to admit that my drinking capacity is better and my wine is worse.

And I never default on gambling money, which is not easy. When I was young, I liked people who never said love.

He fought the invisible man.

Risk your life for silent beauty.

In the movie, he is a marginal person.

Arrogant, cynical, without reliable guns and identities.

Wearing a raincoat, he suffered emotional torture.

I am crazy about his platform, too.

Be infatuated with the way he smokes.

One year, I also sent a beautiful woman to a far away place.

I light a cigarette, too.

My fingers are slender and wild, but there are no matches.

It was a pity that day.

It didn't rain either.

There is a noisy crowd on the platform.

Looks like that's the last time. She's like in a movie.

She waved and leaned out of the window.

I can still dream about her occasionally after many years.

Dreaming of a farewell whistle

The way she sees herself and mixed people.

But without exception.

Whenever I light a cigarette, there is always no fire in my pocket.

Now, I quit smoking.

I seldom go to the platform to bid farewell.

This is life.

Soon, twenty years passed.

I feel the same pain without her.

It doesn't make much sense

He also writes poems.

Fight the invisible man and risk your life. If you are a stranger, come and love me.

"You suddenly lowered your head and said something soft in my ear."

The coffin at night was carried out from a dream.

The last nail nailed the lover's heartbeat.

It seems wonderful to be alive.

There are false goals, short-lived love, salt and wine.

If you want to talk about it, talk about a foreign land and the river of yesterday.

Life beyond mortals

I will teach you to practice wall-piercing, stealth and ventriloquism.

Teach you to love trees and let you learn.

How to prolong the strange process with silence

It's like having sex for a long time and crying silently.

Many people are meaningless to live, but we are.

We taste the pain of the world again and again.

Treat each other as patients and plant secret primers.

We are in love and estranged.

Live with heart

Bury each other in the rainy season-there is one happy thing in this world, that is, I will never get you.

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Drink with her to the Song Dynasty.

Pinch her nose and have breakfast.

In Yelang, sitting in the well watching the stars.

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Give her a lying mirror and give her water to drink.

In the subway, wet wet kissed her.

Like a German poet.

Strip her of sex appeal, write a beautiful poem and make a skirt for her.

Give her a lifetime.

Write empty love in an eclectic way

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Get her pregnant, put a specific girl

Give it back to the world.

Perfection is unparalleled.

Love her all my life.

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Take her to the grassland to bathe the hedgehog.

Shoot an eagle and listen to her nagging like grass

Teach her to walk through walls, hear voices and be crazy.

All the spells in the world

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Beyond the bed.

Give her a warm fire.

Give her vanity, ambition and spring breeze.

And heroes among mankind.

Fall in love with an abstract woman

Tell her to stop crying.

Buy her a quadrangle.

Wash the tree and her leaves.

Play with the moon and lament that life is short.

Make love to her after dark, seize today.

Use various postures

Give birth to infinite meaning one

From the beginning, I put my face

Incomplete, ugly, pale and melancholy

It's yours.

I want alcohol, I want unrestrained sex, and I often lose my temper.

On the way across the world

I try to love.

I try to love rain, lightning and pale hands.

Wet hair, small breasts

I also like malicious language.

And all the books.

I was old when I finally fell in love with myself.

I still love my seventeen years old.

Love the rain that year, it is green and yellow.

two

Maybe my fate is the fate of a white horse.

As you sow, you reap. Different people have different opinions.

Indulge in drugs, dancing, gambling

Regard words as a foreign land, when

In the distance, I gradually returned to my former residence with abundant water plants.

Settled down, pigeons and I circled around the old well platform.

three

There will be tears, that's just tears.

This is the most beautiful water. It is a form that goes beyond the content.

four

If I'm as long as time

I won't go far.

I won't die in spring.

I hate the wind in Inner Mongolia.

It messed up my life. I am not a kite.

I am a left-behind bird, willing to grow up under a tree and grow old slowly.

five

I told you everything.

I have no name, no lover, no place of origin and no age.

Without everything you have.

Give me a window.

Let me see countless women I love.

See their youth

See their children live a happy life in the world.

six

Don't blame me, father.

After all, I'm not just your son.

I am still a poet's dress, and I am her dissolute lover.

This is the ship she has been waiting for. One day my river will take me away from you, father.

I suddenly realized that I never hated you.

Never hated your violence and everything.

Never hated trains. That's the first toy you gave me.

seven

My mother is also one of the migratory birds. ........................

And my silent, cold, frightened mother.

Both north and south have her hometown.

Stop in a warm place. My mother is good at flying.

She used weak wings to resist lies, bullets and sticky nets.

In my son's heavy dream, the stars are tearful stones, and they are cold stones.

My mother moved with beautiful dreams.

She doesn't have nothing, she has beautiful feathers and

The voice of nature. Sing about the earth and the grain.

Her brothers and sisters died one after another, leaving a river of blood in the Millennium Bird Path.

She also had no green card, no nationality, and died without regret.

Those who carry guns, those who carry nets, those who pretend that it is dawn and lie to you.

Sell yours and bake yours.

They are also my relatives, your children. They are also greedy people and guilty people.

Mom, all I can do is fly at night instead of you.

Give a cheerful whine before the lightning and rainstorm, just like when you first returned to the south.

Just like the first time you saw the snow, let me say goodbye again.

Although you were left behind.

You left a sleeve in the nothingness of the bridge.

Leave a shadow, lighter than a cloud.

As a symbol, I can borrow you to describe love.

Or teenagers go upstairs to achieve the past.

When I cherish parting, such as now.

I don't like beautiful women and famous horses anymore.

Don't want to miss the smoke, miss the goose.

Missing a bowl of millet porridge is a heavy worry.

When it comes to breaking up.

More attention should be paid to procedures.

It also belongs to a road to life.

I am getting old.

I began to accept what life gave me, even though I hated it.

You should lift your feet slowly, turn around gracefully and smile.

Keep waving

If you have a sob at this time, you can directly press it down.

head

Floating moonlight

Some parting can be done in one go, and there can be hatred.

Or you can be like me.

Stay away from a bridge

Never go near the dangerous river-Shi Tiesheng said: "The so-called fate means that this earthly drama needs all kinds of roles, and you can only be one of them, and you can't change it at will."

In the sound of gongs and drums, they took the stage in turn.

But my brother Pasternak

Refuse to play your own role and obey the plot.

Be on the same stage with hypocrites

Many villages are scattered all over the world.

The one on the stage

He is not alone, but his despair is a bit melodramatic.

A prince and a beggar are the same.

Follow the absurd logic of this world

Let the horse neigh in it.

Want to go further than the script.

The curtain covered a short night in the protagonist's life.

All the lines in the strong light are pale and absurd.

Some rumors have been refuted. It's March.

To be or not to be is no longer a question.

It's just who should cry next time.

What kind of person do you like for this accidental fate? You ask me.

Some people walk in front of the mirror, read books and occasionally get the mirror wet.

I like women who ride horses all the year round.

Actually, I like her, too.

I like her teenagers.

Like the shadow of confidence when a bird just learns to fly.

I like her middle age, too

Like a lush tree, like her summer shade.

Like her capable branches in winter.

Of course, I prefer her old age.

I like the occasional memory ripple in her body.

I like a well hanging from the roof.

She returned to the earth bit by bit.

Like a woman

She has both innocence and vicissitudes.

After years of inner cultivation, a person sometimes gains painful flowers.

Sometimes nothing is gained, which is more empty than poverty.

But I like the sea-like land in her heart.

She had a good time in it.

You are on her forehead, on her lips, in her smile.

You are in her footsteps, in her silence, in her tears.

You are in her casual gesture.

You can feel her time. You don't have to believe in the mirror of lies.

Although she sometimes goes in and out of an old mirror.

Walking in it, reading, and occasionally leading a horse will come to you.

Caught off guard, the train stopped completely.

I know I drank too much tea last night.

The toilet on the train is dirty.

I can go out.

It's dawn now, and I'm not sleepy anymore.

It's a long way to work.

Enough to repair dreams.

I remember the train stopped at a small station for a while.

I got off the bus and saw the desolate world.

There are scattered villages in the distance.

I want to roam along the railway line, like a conscious poet

After all, I still don't give up on her on the bus. When did she get on the bus?

Face calm, silent.

The train went on, and the conductor asked me to have tea.

She stood sideways on the side of the carriage with a female companion beside her.

I haven't had time to look at her carefully.

Ask her if her life is satisfactory.

I haven't heard of her. You don't know. Her voice is crisp and sweet.

I don't know whether she is in the south or in the north now.

The train stopped and the dream stopped.

Along the familiar old road, this late autumn morning

I think poetry can be novel or prose.

It can be fables, fairy tales, essays and poems.

I also thought that Kafka should give up drinking. Kafka's life is so lonely.

Are they all surnamed ka?

I also think that if I stay in Beijing, maybe my life will be different.

I thought a lot, and I thought of the godfather, Harry Potter, Lincoln and Diaoyu Island.

I even thought of the glorious Juyanhai and the sad Liling in the past.

I also remembered the Mongolian wolf with false teeth, at night in Huzhen.

But I couldn't help crying. Look for it on a cool morning.

A train that will never come.

A damn old black train, the bathroom is dirty.