Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Written in September

September, what kind of season? Vague outline, mixed with a little bleak tone.

The sun, along the wall, one meter to one meter climb. Bana open sky overland to sway.

Miss, with the coiled bamboo. A long bamboo, read a long paragraph.

Bright, light read to harvest.

Fragrant Rice, broken a sweat sway.

The joy from the autumn, accompanied by late-night flute sound, soul-stirring ... ...

September, the voice of a dream to start a ground-breaking. Bit by bit memories, the creation of a clown, leaving the patch of blue sky in September.

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