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空心人
他热切地倾吐肺腑,
拉扯成一架风车,
一座铁塔,
很多个箱子哐噹噹。
火车的蒸汽烟囱,
吃的是雾,
吐的却是
流水声声中的碎梦。
一颗心,
疲倦得冲到三里外
想飞,
夏日不凄冷,
布置着蘼芜。
Hollow Man
He is eager to pour out his heart,
pulling it into a windmill,
a tower, a pagoda.
Many chests bang.
The steaming chimney of the train
eats fog,
and spits out
fragmented dreams in the sound of running water.
This heart,
so tired as to rush out three miles away,
wishes to fly up.
Summer is not bleak
in its arrangement of the empty barren.