BY AN RAN
September to keep the commandments of Allah heads towards the green crescent.
I want to fry a full Youxiang bread
To Hang up on the night sky,
Didn’t find the appropriate rhymes for the fire in my soul, though.
With the head on the depressing ineffability:
The broken Great Wall
The rusted barbed wire
And the Great Firewall of binary,
My words is the sad comet across them.
写在莱曼丹之前
文/安然
持诫的九月正驶向绿色的新月。
想炸一枚金黄的油香，
挂上夜空，
可我的灵魂里找不到生火的韵脚。
头顶那片沉闷的莫名：
残破的长城、
生锈的铁丝网
和二进制的防火墙，
我的词语只是划过它们的悲伤的彗星
