heating
/ Dong Yufang
Sometimes I have to talk to keep warm
A word here, a word there
Useful is only a small part of it
Nonsense, steaming hot
Is the best epitaph
More often not
It is pushing a stone mill, grinding grass seeds
Watercress and gravel. Grind those
Something to regret
Take the days apart for warmth
Split into sunrise and sunset
One left, one right
To relatives
Sometimes we have to go to lu for warmth
Watch the wagon rumble past
The pear falls into the sleeve
Fly out
Come back and sit next to you
By old and by ill
Rely on the cold shoulder of strangers
To keep warm. In the last abandon
Green buds are sprouting
Warm oneself by dying
To prove it's not cold
Shame is better than glory
Less than the ashes