In the afternoon, the quiet spread and heavy sleepiness dragged me into my dream.

Become a wonderful bird. Fly to Ticino. Stop in the fragrance of violets; Look at the zinnia in the garden, green and shiny; Look at the weak roses hanging down love; See the old peach tree die young and die with dignity; Look at the golden finger of the iris Reagan root, which leads to the far-reaching blue world. ......

Church, blessing and worship, piety and sacredness. I stay away from the sacred light and hide behind the clothes of an ancient man. He looks like hermann hesse because he worships it devoutly.

I gave the baptism of my soul to friends far away and drew a garden. Will he read the song of the soul happily and silently? Sitting on the warm narrow stone steps, I am waiting for a letter.

Suddenly, I opened my eyes, and the golden sunshine, like the fingers of an iris, pulled up the curtains swaying in the wind. What a beautiful afternoon, mysterious and romantic.

Ah, how I want to stay in Ticino, be a slave of laurel, keep a pure soil, a bright flower and a clear soul.

(2)

In the darkness, there is a ray of light in my world, which is the faint light from the words under the desk lamp, such as the moonlight in my arms, accompanying me. When I think of sadness, my eyes are dim and my mood is chaotic.

On the front wall, it is the whole world. The blue of the sea has a melancholy beauty, bewitching the black background and occupying my world layer by layer. Close your eyes, the sea is flowing in the dark world. I couldn't help reaching out and holding my hand in the air, trying to change the appearance of the sea with my fingers. Open your eyes and turn your head to the right. Suddenly, I saw the shadow of my hand, which was cleverly pasted on the white wall on the north side. Look carefully, try to wave your fingers, follow your footsteps and transform them into various shapes, such as round, crescent, duckbill, crocodile mouth, rabbit ears, etc ... The fingers are changing. On the white wall, the world is changing and animals' hooves are running.

Hands arbitrarily deduce various shapes, let them fly in the pure white world, let them sway in the quiet time, the soul enters the childlike world, and a pure pleasure rises in the heart.

Alas, the original image is so beautiful and the world is so simple and profound that I can't help laughing. ...

(3)

Snow White, a bright coat. The mountains of the world, the water of the world, become a trickle.

Snow's heart is singing, and trembling notes are beating. Outside the window, a feather fluttered and fell flat on the chest of the earth, paving a continuous plateau and crossing the heart of everything.

The swaying red plum sniffed the skin of the snow, and Ma Touqin mused on a love song of the world of mortals. Handsome body, dancing in the branches, pressure on self-denial, as if plucking the strings, playing a long ancient song.

Cut a snow dance season and put it in the page. The soul melts and moistens, clearing the tunnel of time, wiping the crowded brain, kissing the snow and praying to the holy light.

Darkness is dead, but light lives on. The world is pure, like a girl of seventeen or eighteen.