The orchards, trees and cultivated land in the west extend and extend into the purple scorpion that is dissolved in the distant forest.
  The villages of the Shaotars are hidden in the saplings of trees, palm trees, and tamarind trees. The red earth roads without trees sheltered around the village, like the bright red sari of the dark green sari. A palm tree stands abruptly, as if it is pointing for the confusion of the brigade.
  The green belt of the earth's kerchief-like north is pulled out of a gap, the soil is lost, the red rock of the bumps reveals the silent commotion; the rust-like black soil in the middle of it, like the buffalo horn turned into a devil.
  A glimpse of the rain in the courtyard of the courtyard has created a quiet hill for people to play, and there is a nameless river flowing under the foot of the mountain.
  In the short farewell ceremony of the Western Heavenly Sun in the autumn, there are mixed colors. At this time, I found the magnificence above the game of the earth gray, which reminds me of a rare evening, the same landscape on the bare red peaks of the red sea.
  On that dirt road, the storm that struck at the beginning of the year was like the ancient brave knight. He held the twilight battle flag, slammed the head of the towering tree, trembled the mahogany and the chestnut tree, and provoked a sigh in the quiet bamboo forest. Into the banana garden, the implementation of tyrannical rule.
  Looking at the soaring gravel under the weeping sky, the storm that started in the red sea appeared in my mind, and the splashing drops of water were raised.
  I have been there when I was young.
  Qingquan Zeng, which flows out of the cave, induced my magical delusions . At noon, I alone piled up the cobblestones into various buildings.
  Years are like water. In the past few decades, the drowning water like a rock on the shore slipped over me. Living on the edge of the bare sand dunes under the scorpio, I shaped the image of work, as I used to build castles with cobblestones.
  On the rainy day when I wrote the rain, I turned my eyes to the red pine, the lonely palm tree, the person who became the green field and the red soil. Some people who showed my breasts, some are alive, some have gone. It is.
  In the middle of the night when I ended up with my white things, they summoned me in heaven.
  Then what? The cleft palate in the north is like a bloody red glow. The farmland in the south grows crops as well. The cattle and sheep graze in the wilderness in the east. The villagers follow the red dirt road to the market. The edge of the western sky is still a blue line.