◎The magical change
When the moon knocks on the cap of the sky
We hear the childish voice from the eyes
After learning that tears and pain have no strength
I regard fear and compassion as wisdom
If you want to let a bowl of cold water rest in your throat
Need a golden lotus with blue blood
The sky that you can't sleep at night requires seven million stars
Count one in a second
It takes fourteen days
It's like a secret telling another secret
From tomorrow on winter will turn white
"No one falls asleep tonight"--
Beginning, people in Wuhan have time to go out
On the faces of seven hundred children who sing a song
We are growing up with them
How much sadness is there at night
Praying for painlessness during the day
◎Stone-killing man
A man who drove out the darkness
Bathing the sun
In the Mughal Empire, hide in
Now Pakistan dust
Sleeping for 1800 years
Turning into a stone man
Quickly get used to the degraded sunshine
A man in a robe
stepped on the weight of his body
pushed to the ground
listened to the construction worker's intentions
hammer, cut off pieces of dark
archaeologist, measured
historical body
exactly the size of an adult
remaining fragments
is all his kindness
◎Open
————Pendron
2 night, listening to life
her eyes see the scene of snow
There is no rainbow on the frozen bones, no door
A weathered stone stove, burning with the pain of laughter
grasping the night heart, slowly breaking in the skin
The person pierced by the rain body, unable to start the dream ritual
In the mud pit, washing the face of another person
build a wall without ventilation vents between each other
The shadow fell on the ground, a garden found in pain, playing the tone, enduring himself in the dream after leaving, full of thorns
Night at the door, holding his head, removing every light
Grab my hand, a door
A bunch of keys. Open me
◎The Heart Realm
—To musician Bianluo Mr.
Loneliness is engraved in the sound of gaining weight
Singers sleep on the street begging
At that time, I couldn’t understand the sky of Shambhala
Why there is no Vulture
Never cared about the death of god
The dark cloud stuck in the throat, like a storm
is always so easy, scratching my tears
You buried the torn sound in your bones
Use the cells of your life to repair it, after
rinsed the moldy streets and alleys.I was a young age before I heard you
You are blown hard by the wind, you are sour and bitter
When I tied up with my long hair, I was still shaking my sky
Like a cowhide boat floating on the water
In my time, I have cut my wrinkles
Now you, the wind is wide, the rain is high
. There are many stories of beards and beards intertwined and faded
Young people! Tonight
You are in a strange void
in a bar, in an alley
in a quilt in a village
knocking on the thick sky
◎ Kawagbo was chatting with a carpenter
, he said
carved a person with tears
listened to him tell a story
characters and plot
have unique charm
—the most unforgettable
but I was at fire pit
I didn't cry until I finally cried
A table of wine was crying
A group of people holding wine body
Laughing in the air
No tears
Only to make the snow mountain whiter
◎ A horse
A horse, lost the reins
I treat the mountains as the reins of the horse
No one leads her back
Let her flow out of the mountains
No horse shepherd is empty
fear of loneliness
There is no unique charm
Grassland in the photo
ml2 is a body that died to save lives
I drew a saddle for the horse
Pressed it on my body
Take off the ruthless scars of running water
and horse run
◎Gatekeeper stone
There is a stone in front of my house
We treat it as a doorman
Don't let others use it as a stone wall, stone stairs, stone slabs
This stone has been ground into the pattern by time
In recent years, I have been away from home
Every time I think of that stone
I think of the years painted on it
html ml2 Memories of every drop of rainThis year I saw that stone
Its body has been sewn with steel nails
Its body
Its body
Like a patient
Its posture is a bit sad
Its doorstep
Its sixty-two-year-old mother
Holding a mouthful of inexpressible heart
Patient face squinted at the door
Wait for me to go home
Sha Mao Zhihua, Tibetan , original name Zhihua Jiacuo, Tibetan and Chinese bilingual writing, poet, freelance writer. Currently living in Lhasa. member of the Chinese Writers Association, Lu Xun Academy of Literature's "Bacon Project" was one of the first batch of selected writers. He was selected for the 38th Youth Poetry Festival, the 10th "October Poetry Festival", and the 4th National Youth Prose Poetry Writing Association. He has written five collections of Tibetan and Chinese bilingual poems, including "Writes in the Kitchen" and "The Moon Drops in a Bowl". He has published his Tibetan and Chinese bilingual works in publications such as " People's Literature ", " Poetry Magazine ", "Chinese Writers", "Ethnic Literature", "October", " Chapter Cial ", and "Gangjian Meiduo". He has won the third "Dasel Literature Award", the first "Tubo Poet Award", and the 2020 Italian Golden Pen International Literature Award.
