Ce matin, la pluie est tombée au sol, peut-être la nuit dernière.

Au Dragon Boat Festival après le massacre, des meurtriers violents ont détourné les yeux des innocents et l'ont accroché sous les avant-toits de la poutre. Comme les étoiles brillent à distance en direction des marcheurs. À minuit, sous de fortes pluies, un oiseau migrateur a quitté l'habitat où il avait confiance pour se rendre au palais éloigné que ses parents lui avaient dit. Il a trouvé sa propre espèce, mais la même classe l'a considérée comme une autre éthique, la picorant avec son bec pointu. Leurs corps gisaient dans les profondeurs de la forêt et couraient dans les marais formés par la fonte des glaciers avec les corps de dizaines de milliards d'animaux qui étaient sur le point de se décomposer. La boue était tachée de ses plumes brillantes dans le passé, des moustiques et des punaises de lit ont pénétré son estomac et des termites noirs ont arraché ses ovaires et ont trouvé une nouvelle vie qui était sur le point d'être conçue. Maintenant, cette bête féroce qui a été cultivée pendant quarante-cinq ans de pluie torrentielle a presque brûlé tous les corps d'animaux brûlés par les flammes flottant dans la mer, et ces secrets qui étaient trop tard pour être racontés et ne seront jamais mémorisés par Tous les êtres vivants couraient vers l'abîme de l'univers. Le feu ne s'est jamais éteint, la pluie n'a jamais cessé, la tempête balayera la côte du récif et la peste est cachée du côté sombre de la ruelle.

The shadow of the dome of pleasure floated midway on the waves, where was heard the mingled measure from the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, a sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice. A damsel with a dulcimer in a vision once I saw; it was an Abyssinian maid, and on her dulcimer, she played, singing of mount agora. Could I revive within me her symphony and song, to such a deep delight would win me that with music loud and long. I would build that dome in air, that sunny dome! Those caves of ice and all who heard should see them there. Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! As holy and enchanted as eer beneath a waning moon was haunted by woman wailing for her demon – lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething. As is this earth in fast thick pants were breathing. A mighty fountain momently was forced: amid whose swift half-intermitted burst huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: and mid these dancing rocks at once and ever it flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion through wood and dale the sacred river ran, they reached the caves measureless to man, and sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean.

Les oiseaux repérés dans l'histoire de la civilisation humaine n'ont jamais cessé de tweeter, mais ceux qui l'ont déjà entendu semblent fatigués de ce qu'on appelle des pleurs extravagants.

The story you are telling is kind of a controversial situation in which the little girl whose name is Julieta needs to find her own original truth about her life. The foundation that built her mind, spirit, and flash. She denied that she wants to clarify the destiny, but she tried again and over again about philosophy.

A young strong miner from the province of Gansu, (northwest of china) who never got a very decent education and was natured retarded decided to marry a pretty but profligate widow ignoring the gossipy of the village. The widow gave birth to a baby girl. The miner’s sister and brother-in-law have no child and they decided to adapt this baby in order to solve the problem of hukou. Then one day, the brother in law met with a trader in human being and his greedy humility demonstrated in front of the lure of money. He stole this little girl and sold her to the trader telling his wife and her brother that the little girl was lost by accident. The miner started the process of looking for his daughter. He was cheated more than one time by the human organ traders, slavery traders and pyramid selling traders. Eventually, he safely escaped from the traps but was damaged spiritually and physically whose appearance looks like a beggar. He accidentally found a baby boy by a streamlet and picked him up. He raised this baby boy by begging and pilfering or picking up trash. Then one day, he was arrested by the police and accused by the community. He wants to visit the orphan asylum to have a look to his boy，but this requirement would be refused cruelly. And at the end of the story, he no longer can see his daughter nor his son because he was freezing to death under the sun.

El sol sale y cae, la marea sube y baja. El arrecife fue capturado por las olas y devuelto a la orilla. La arena estaba surgiendo, la tormenta estaba furiosa, los mariscos exudaban perlas y el caracol se enroscó y se arrastró por la playa, luego fue destruido y olvidado. La campana sonó a lo lejos, y la iglesia hizo circular poemas en el corazón. El sol poniente reflejaba el anochecer. Uno tras otro, Songo Tao pintó el reflejo de Colombia. Las hojas en el suelo salino son el fondo de la vida. La luna toca el silbato y el silbato, dispersa el paisaje en la niebla, la gente va a tomar el té, se acerca el verano y se acerca el viento de otoño. Al día siguiente, el sol salió como de costumbre. No preguntes, para quién está sonando la sentencia de muerte, está sonando para ti. He soleil rices, réflex. The reef was captured by the waves and returned to the shore. The sand is rising, the storms are furious, the pearls ooze from the shellfish, the snails crawl along the beach, then they are destroyed and forgotten. The bell rang in the distance, and the church spread the poem in its heart. The sunset reflects the dusk. Song Tao successively painted the reflection of Colombia. The leaves in the saline soil are the bottom of life. The whistle of the moon, the landscape is scattered in the fog, people go for tea, summer is approaching, the autumn wind is approaching. The next day, the sun came out as usual. Don't ask who the death penalty sounds like, it's ringing for you.

This morning, the rain fell on the ground, perhaps last night.

At the Dragon Boat Festival after the massacre, the violent killers dug out the eyes of the innocent and hung it under the eaves on the beam. As the shining stars shone on the direction of the walkers from distance. At midnight in heavy rain, a migratory bird left the habitat where it relied on to go to the remote palace which its parents told it. It found its own kind spice, but the same kind regarded it as another ethic, pecking it with its sharp beak. Its carcasses lay in the depths of the forest, and rushed to the marshland formed by the melting of glaciers with the corpses of tens of billions of animals that were about to decay. The mud was smeared on its shining feathers in the past, mosquitoes and bed bugs penetrated her stomach, and black termites ripped off her ovaries and found new life that was about to be conceived. Now, this fierce beast that has been cultivated by forty-five years of torrential rain has almost scorched all the scorched animal bodies burnt by the flames floating in the sea, and those secrets that were too late to be told and will never be memorized by all living beings rushed to the abyss of the universe.

The fire has never been extinguished, the rain has never stopped, the storm will sweep the reef-coasted shore again, and the plague is hidden in the dark side of the street. The smeared birds in the history of human civilization have never stopped tweeting, but those who once listened to it seem to be tired of what is called extravagant crying.

Esta mañana, la lluvia cayó al suelo, quizás anoche.

En el Festival del Bote del Dragón después de la masacre, los asesinos violentos sacaron los ojos del inocente y lo colgaron debajo de los aleros en la viga. A medida que las estrellas brillantes en la dirección de los caminantes desde la distancia. A la medianoche, bajo una fuerte lluvia, un ave migratoria abandonó el hábitat donde confiaba para ir al palacio remoto que sus padres le dijeron. Encontró su propia especie, pero la misma clase la consideró como otra ética, picoteándola con su pico afilado. Sus cadáveres yacían en las profundidades del bosque y corrían hacia las marismas formada por el derretimiento de los glaciares con los cadáveres de decenas de miles de millones de animales que estaban a punto de descomponerse.

El barro estaba manchado con sus brillantes plumas en el pasado, los mosquitos y las chinches penetraron su estómago, y las termitas negras le arrancaron los ovarios y encontraron una nueva vida que estaba a punto de concebirse. Ahora, esta feroz bestia que ha sido cultivada por cuarenta y cinco años de lluvia torrencial casi ha quemado todos los cuerpos animales quemados por las llamas que flotan en el mar, y esos secretos que fueron demasiado tarde para ser contados y nunca serán memorizados por Todos los seres vivos corrieron al abismo del universo.

El fuego nunca se ha extinguido, la lluvia nunca se ha detenido, la tormenta barrerá la costa de arrecifes, y la plaga está oculta en el lado oscuro del callejón. Los pájaros manchados en la historia de la civilización humana nunca han dejado de tuitear, pero aquellos que alguna vez lo escucharon。