文／何强
“脚下的那片泥土，每抓起一把，都一定会攥出血来。”
-- 诗人芒克
我敬畏脚下的黄土地，在时光折叠的疼痛里，找不到一卷残旧的乡土气息
模糊的碎片难以拼凑，我想起了一些奇妙的声音，写成诗歌还是散文问自己
地里疯长的杂草掩埋了遗失的麦穗，乡村的道路很安静，唯有渐行渐远的埙音
Love is the soil
Kiss the soil
— miniature Prose poetry
The author／HeQiang
"At the foot of the piece of clay, each grabbed a, will hold a bleeding."
— poet MangKe
I fear at the foot of the yellow earth, in the time folding pain, can't find a roll of klunky agrestic breath
Fuzzy fragments to piece together, reminded me of some wonderful voice, written poems or essays asked himself
In the fields of the weed buried lost grain, rural roads is very quiet, only the two-string fiddle away
何强
地址：安徽省合肥市亳州路畅园新村72栋405室
邮编：230031
QQ: 743173859
邮箱：hqyhyh@163.com
手机：13856059543
|
发表于 2013-9-23 07:18
收藏
分享
发表于 2013-9-23 09:23
模糊的碎片难以拼凑，我想起了一些奇妙的声音，写成诗歌还是散文问自己