In July, the sea sparkles with fire.

What? I drink blood with my axe.
But hot lips look out
Looking north with bright red lips.
Maybe it’s because of binocular loss.
Then I am a blind poet.
In the earliest days of July
Thinking of you, I ran all over this street tonight
I want to turn over a new leaf after getting up every day.
I want to be a cosmic child, a century child.
Spending my youth
Then give up the throne of love
To be a captain with a heart of stone
Go through a noisy city
It’s hard for me to dream of anything.
Except the first July, always July.
July is the golden season.
When the poor get paid in the fishing port
I haunt in July, like that lonely snake that love me.
She will spend her life in painful and bitter sea water.
19877 draft revised in 19883
Peach blossom season
Taohuafang
The sun’s skull moves, the flame hands stick out from the head
Flocks of wild animals licked the flame blade.
Towards the end of the declining valley
They will turn water into fire, beautiful body.
Water is hanging in the gas flame at this moment.
But it’s still water deeper.
Wings are red and aggressive.
It was the peach blossom season of Cyclops.
Cyclops embrace a peach grove.
He saw that the earth was blazing with fire.
He’s burning the bottom of his stomach.
Peach blossoms suddenly meet.