2011 Poetry Ranking

About This Novel

Rolling stones blocked the way. Descending deeply and then climbing up with arm strength, like the shadow of an ant crawling and winding on the vertical ladder. The wild flowers are like mist, and my tears well up. The red sun is steaming, and the world is majestic. Some healthy feathers fell down and died, and were eaten up by insects and ants in an instant. The stone rushed towards my heart, and my breath was loud and sharp.

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