Paint My Dream Poem

The down-and-out poet moored at Green Grass Lake at night, drunk and alone on the bow. Seeing the stars pouring into the lake, I took a boat to the sky in a trance and drank wine with the old friend in my dream. When I woke up, the morning mist was thin, and only the broken light on the water surface was left, and I knew that the most beautiful dream could not carry the sorrow of separation in the world.