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耳朵们顺着时间的长势摇曳,清新,像是民国的淑女,隔夜的马车在枝上饮茶。一朵鸟鸣把水镂空开来。一朵鸟鸣给民歌培土,浇水,直到花儿开在女人的山坡上。点灯。丫环是一枚花做的书签,在春天的月夜里沏茶。银匠出身的我,在树枝上敲些声音,一句系在她技法没骨的细腰上。
Ears swaying along the time, fresh, like the Republic of China lady, overnight carriage on the branch to drink tea. A bird hung open the water. A bird song to earth folk songs, watering, until the flowers on a woman’s hillside. Light up. Maid is a flower bookmark, making tea in the spring moonlight night. I was born silversmith, knocking on the branches some sound, a line in the waist she did not bone technique.