Wind blows through the field
I beg to become a child of the sky
even if it takes back the wings in my heart
Walk by the field, an immersive winter
Wind blows off some colors of life
Glasses collapse, no one lifts them up
I am drunk in a remote place
My posture emanates yellow
Lonely wheat turns green
Allow me to arrive at the next spring without accidents
One shadow always stands at the corner of the farm land
I want to smoke
After red sorghum returns home
How much dirt-like tenderness for me
Survival sits on an altar
My love and hatred
Dare not mention them at all
Wind blows me lower and lower
Into mud, absorb water
I yearn to become a child of the sky
As if
Touchable by my extended hands
风从田野上吹过
余秀华
我请求成为天空的孩子
即使它收回我内心的翅膀
走过田野，冬意弥深
风挂落了日子的一些颜色
酒杯倒塌，无人扶起
我醉在远方
姿势泛黄
麦子孤独地绿了
容我没有意外地抵达下一个春
总有个影子立在田头
我想抽烟
红高粱回家以后
有多少土色柔情于我
生存坐在香案上
我的爱恨
生怕提起
风把我越吹越低
低到泥里，获取水分
我希望成为天空的孩子
仿佛
也触手可及
