Boing crying, whose sadness is that? Grief without tears, or whose sadness? The hot wind is still whose sadness below. Roll up and cry with the handkerchief collection of time and space; a little bit of ink to depict the sadness without tears; full sleeves to protect the wind, listen to the sadness of Si.
Wandering over the desert, the flowing wind could not shed any tears. Always sentimental Yuyun stingily looked down at the sorrow under his feet and drifted silently. Empty place, the muggy sun contains loneliness and irritability, ruthlessly vent the heat in the golden sand sea.
This is a sea of desperate sand.
No one's shadow wants to walk.
Not even a sigh.
This is a lonely sea of sand.
No bird is willing to draw a shadow.
Even a wisp of birdsong is thousands of miles away.
This is a forgotten sea of sand.
Although the map remembers its name,
But people are willing to sing in the snow-capped mountains.
I don't want to be thirsty here.
The golden sand is very lonely, if its home is not here, but on the wet beach, it must be a different scene, where there are countless warm dreams in which there are little feet sprouting and the story of little feet kissing the spray of poetry. Even if it is not clear whether it is poetry or prose, it is also warm to the end of the world. In the seaside sand cracks must still be shuttling slowly sea breeze, carrying immortal tenderness, slowly writing poetic. There is no shortage of blue dreams in the wind. In the dream is the ocean-going greeting of the sea ship, the song of the Mockingbird in the dream, the colorful morning glow gliding in the dream, and the laughter and poetry of the crowd blooming in the dream. The endless tile blue is not only the source of life, but also the promised land of the sand, couples greet each other in whispers from time to time, to kiss the story in the footprints. Sand on the beach they do not lack happiness, nor do they lack the peace of the night. The sand are willing to stay and carve such a beautiful picture into eternity.
The golden sand is not lonely by the sea, but now it stays in the boundless desert, retains the original loneliness, passes away in the ancient memory, tears dry up in the arms of the stars in the sky, and never look back. Every grain of golden sand is sad. Unfortunately, there are no tears: thousands of hearts have no one to praise each other, indifferent to each other; no one whispers to each other and conveys love; and no one is whose buddies, still going their separate ways at critical moments. Nothing is more sad than the closest distance to each other and the distance between hearts at the end of the world.
They bluntly formed a vast sea of sand, forced to store countless sunlight during the day, but instantly and infinitely discharged behind, leaving nothing behind. A night without sunshine is a cold night. The stars will also get very cold. Thousands of individuals in the sand sea chill at night: who will give me a trace of warmth, who is my God, who is indifferent to me, who will fall with me. Who can give me warmth, even if it's just a drop, I can't stand the cold. But the sun is far away, that round of classic red quietly hidden in the immutable mountains, sleeping until the story is repeated.
Day after day, year after year, the story has a beginning, but it bends endlessly. Who can tell them what gives them indifference, what gives them desolation, and what makes them unfamiliar with themselves.
In the vast sea of sand, there are almost no living creatures brewing routes during the day, only dead heat and thirsty throats. There are no animals during the day, because their skin can not stand scorching, hiding under the deep sand, these defenders are waiting for a turn for the better, waiting for countless spring and summer and long autumn and winter. And no one will tell them what the distance they are waiting for will be, and the yellow sand will reach the sky.
This is the world during the day, deducing a hot story. Of course, there are some bent cactus, few desert willows, this is their hometown, if they die of thirst, they never give up their hometown. The green cactus sacrificed the leaves into deformed thorns, for what? Just to hold on to this place. The stars cast pity eyes at night, sighing the immutable desolation.
A silent night. Life on the ground seems to be alive, some reptiles, some carapace, some flying wings, all hurriedly visit Si's stubborn disease, they do not want Si their hometown can cure mental wounds, cure physical pain, become green proudly. These waiting pioneers, unarmed and powerless, wait for themselves and write about the vicissitudes of life.
Si sighs again: if we are no longer indifferent, no longer sigh. Can tears fall in the sky? If we stop depravity and sleep, will human beings sow a seed? If we no longer embrace each other physically, but our hearts are far away, can the seeds germinate and grow into verdant?
The sigh of the sand sea is speechless, only the wind knows, the clouds know, and so does the desolate sky. This is a speechless beginning, perhaps a speechless end, if human beings still open their eyes coldly, but their hands do not warm their sad heart.
Looking at the world through cold eyes, the sand sea in the world is the roaring sea of death. Looking at the world through warm pupils, the sand sea in the world is a verdant island. Cold and warm are between thoughts, like the sun and the moon. The desolate sand sea is waiting, it is silently thinking of the green day to come. They also lit the oath: a hundred years later, we will repay mankind and build a happy home; two hundred years later, we will also repay mankind and point out wealth to mankind; three hundred years later, we will hate mankind and throw gravel and hurricanes to attack green homes.
The desert is still waiting, what are we human beings waiting for?
This does not seem to be nature's fault, but human beings' regret of being lost. They should start to act. Don't let Si stay lonely, confused, and finally go crazy. Si is waiting, crying, they have been waiting for the dawn, only human beings can save them. Maybe I think so.
Conclusion: the homeland of human beings is changing, and only by being kind to them, they will greet each other with a smile. If treated indifferently, the green grass will turn yellow, and human beings will despair.
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