& lt never lands & gt Wang Weijing, a new concept, wrote this article about Rambo's quick pursuit.

Anolr Ebiane Irouge Uvert Obleu I'm glad to be free this evening.

_ _ _ _ Vogel

He is very delicate in the photo. That oval face and those sharp and cold eyes seem to be able to see through all the darkness in the world. His high nose and slightly thick lips show his childishness. I like his hair. It should be chestnut, unkempt and wild. And the photos are lit with light gray. In my opinion, gray suits him very well. He is a sensitive person, but he should be cool.

Rambo, a French symbolist poet, is called.

I worship him almost crazily, because I worship the freedom he pursues almost crazily.

I once saw a sketch of Rambo, in which a proud teenager, with a pipe in his mouth and a trench coat, bowed his head in thought. The author of this painting is Wei Erlun, who is Rambo in Wei Erlun's heart.

Rambo first fell in love when he was sixteen, but unfortunately, he fell in love with a man. Never consider the big or small of sleeve-breaking addiction. To be sure, the man he loves is ugly. The photo shows a middle-aged man with sad eyes, sitting alone in a noisy bar, tasting green absinthe. It's drugs. In the end, he took away his sober consciousness, confusion, loneliness, dependence, body and so on by mixing this wine. He always implores Rambo, loves Rambo and hates Rambo with those sad and disgusting eyes.

It is said that absinthe has been banned in France. /kloc-French poets in the 0 th and 9 th centuries loved this green goblin. They let this bitterness slide slowly in their own cavity, and then kept a hazy state of half-dreaming and half-waking, evaporated the pain, enjoyed the beautiful scenery rising in their minds, and then signed a contract with the devil with their lives to find their lost inspiration.

I once drank a green mint wine. I farfetched imitation they put a small spoon in the mouth of the cup, with ice cubes in it, and then asked the bartender to pour me a cup of rich mint concentrate, quietly watching the diluted green. I hate mint, but I like this wine. I will put the cup between the food and my thumb and slowly shake it in the air to taste the cool feeling it brings to my throat. Very expensive. That was the only time I drank that kind of wine. Two friends and I shouted "cheers" in a small restaurant, then frowned and swallowed the bitter wine.

I don't hate someone while I love him, which can be felt in a fragile, hysterical and powerful person like Rambo. He loved that man, and once hated him until his heart was broken, because he loved him to death.

I found it.

What?

immortal

That's the sun and the sea.

Complement each other.

This clip is taken from a poem called Eternity in Season of Hell. Of course, this may not be the best one, but it is the least obscure one. I always naively thought that he was talking to the man he loved. He wants to tell him that he has found a way to love him forever, and that is to forget from now on. No way back, don't expect to return. In the end, there is no love or hate, leaving only unforgettable pain and thoughts.

I am a fickle person, and I don't believe in eternity. I believe that time can change everything. I don't believe that distance produces beauty. I can't be free and easy like Rambo. He wanders and has no home. I am a "new immigrant" from the mainland in Hainan. The only thing I remember is the tears of my relatives, the long sound of the train and the bustling crowd when I left my hometown. Because of the popularity of airplanes, I have never been on a train again. Since leaving home that time, my childhood love for trains has been swept away. In my opinion, the train is a failed means of transportation, which gives full play to the pain of leaving home and stifles the fun of traveling. Returning to my hometown again, I feel like a guest. No matter where I am, I have no home. Unfortunately, Rambo abandoned his home, and I was abandoned by my home.

All my contempt is for a reason, because I ran away,

I ran away,

I defend myself.

-"Impossible"

Rambo is called "Prometheus in the history of poetry", and Malamei is called "a meteor that protrudes horizontally". Wei Erlun called him a "follower". He is extremely arrogant. I was impressed by his courage of love and hate. Refuse, he refused too much. Before he had time to regret, he had lost the right to regret.

My city has a tropical monsoon climate, dry and hot. Get up at noon every day, my throat is particularly dry and I feel irritable. I want to try to follow the footsteps of the wind, but there is no wind to chase. I like this name, the man who walks in the wind. Rambo is a man who is very suitable for the wind, but his footsteps are just martyrs that the wind can't catch up with. The brave Prometheus wrote Rambo's "Killing God" on the school gate before the rhetoric class was ignorant. The public property of our school has not been completely preserved, but there is no such shocking statement. Due to reality, I didn't have the courage to doodle on it after all. I don't believe in Catholicism and I'm not afraid of God's punishment. What I am afraid of is the punishment of school rules.

I will be an outcast, abandoned on the shore of the vast sea; Or the driver's little groom, his forehead touching the sky.

-childhood

I hate pain. This is a sentence that Rambo repeatedly said on his deathbed. But in the end, he couldn't get rid of his suffering and was ruthlessly cut off by fate. He can't run faster at last. He went to Africa, the place he longed for. He got the sea and sunshine, but he lost his freedom forever. To the death, he didn't believe in any sect. A priest who baptized him said, "I sincerely believe that he has always owned the Sect he believes in, which belongs to him, and he has always adhered to this belief."

I know, it's a dream. I hope that one day, I will live next to a magnificent waterfall with my loved ones. It doesn't need to be too extravagant. Maybe it's just a small house. I need some paper and pens to record everything beautiful in front of me. Just listen to the loud noise of the waterfall hitting the rock, watch the small water droplets splash in the sun, then jump in from the cliff and gallop freely, including my heart and body.

I once had a group of friends admiring each other. At that time, we had a simple dream. We chased, played, laughed and made a scene happily. A friend told me that there is a big and bright star in a certain direction on the horizon. As long as we make a sincere wish for it every day, our dream will come true. For a long time, we prayed for our happiness. Later, when my friend went to America, I naturally forgot the legend. Suddenly one day I thought of her again and looked in that direction, but I couldn't find such a star anymore. Laugh silently and leave. After all, there is a feeling in my heart. I know it is emptiness.

Some people say that A Season in Hell is Rambo's confession of his dissolute life when he was young. His foot was amputated, he was sick and blind, and he was in pain. He may really regret his indulgence. For him, the first half of his life was like a dream, and he finally escaped into the terrible reality. But I hope not. He used to sing praises and wander in poetry, and stopped writing poetry for the rest of his life for more than ten years. I thought he was fulfilling his promise to himself. A Fei's story mentioned that there was a kind of bird. It has no feet. It keeps flying. Once it stops, it will die. So is Rambo. He doesn't belong anywhere. He just lingered.

I study the magical shape of happiness, so far no one can guess it.

Oh, the season, oh, the tower

Live somewhere else. He shouted, then broke away from home, got on the train and drove to Paris, the big city waiting for him. He claims to be a "child touched by the muse", and he wants to create a new era of poetry, and he wants to change the whole world.

Everything or nothing. His heart is higher than the sky. He is an extremist. He monopolizes everything selfishly and discards everything at will. Oscar Wilde once said, "There are two tragedies in one's life. One is that you can't get what you want, and the other is that you get it. " If Wilde's tragedy is the first kind, then Rambo's tragedy is the second kind. When you get everything from him, it means you have completely lost it.

I am also an extreme person. I casually put a smile mask on myself, and then I got lost in the crowd. I sometimes run with my head held high and despise everything; Sometimes I bend over and sob in a low voice. I am conceited and inferior; I insist, but also fragile; I hope, but I'm also desperate. I am a contradictory, extreme and self-destructive subtle consciousness. I am lazy and godless, because I think all the time and destroy my only human consciousness all the time.

Rambo is an ambitious man, because he once imagined changing the whole world, but he is also a very pure man. If every life is unique, let's live unique. He said. I just fell madly in love with this sentence. This uniqueness can find a good excuse for our mediocrity. In a cruel real world, I smile and go with the flow, and then I always look forward to those simple and beautiful little happiness inadvertently. In a dirty world, my eyes are clean, my heart is covered with dust, and I can't hear the sound of my heartbeat, but I hear helpless groans, sobs, and sighs that I am at a loss.

Ah! The clock of life has just stopped, and I am no longer alive. Theological solemnity, hell below, heaven above. -trance, nightmare, sleeping in a nest on the flame

In the cave.

-"Night in Hell"

"If I am going to die, let me die in the fire." Romil, a Central Asian living elsewhere, said with crazy and autocratic love for his mother, hatred and despair. A man who died of affection and love can't die of fire, so he died of water. Like Rambo, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer and Ginsburg, they all ended up grieving for their unfulfilled dreams. They're all crazy.

Geniuses are crazy, too. They all die for their madness.

I can't see fire or water. I am still alive in this world, and I have no consciousness of death. If I am going to die, let me die in the fire. There are too many people dying in the water in the world, and I don't want to hear the cry of the devil after death. So, let me die in the fire and rest in peace. Take away my happiness and pain, and I am willing to remember or forget all this in the next rebirth.

The fragrance of flowers no longer makes your nose tremble,

He put one hand on his chest and slept in the sun.

He has two red bullet holes on the right side of his chest.

-The Infiltrator in the valley.

In "Half Dream and Half Wake", Rambo always sees such a scene: a Prussian soldier, lying quietly in the valley. He thought he was just asleep, but he was dead.

I looked at strangers coming and going in the street. They live in this world with all kinds of mentality. To me, they are no different, but I can't find what they have in common. The only thing worthy of recognition is that each of them has his own field of thoughts, emotions, happiness and pain, which will never be reached by others.

Sometimes I see endless beaches with cheerful white people on them. A golden boat passed by me, and the morning breeze brushed the colorful flags.

-Bye.

In the end, the person Rambo loved became the poet king in Paris. Wei Erlun, a famous advocate of humanitarian literature at that time, said, "I once insulted your poems, and now I solemnly take them back."

Wei Erlun's sketches, Rambo in his heart, the teenager who swaggered with a pipe and cared nothing, the teenager who loved and hated him. Rambo belongs to him.

When the bell rings,

Everything is suffocating,

Recalling the distant years, I cried.

-Qiu Ge, Wei Erlun

I know, for the day when sunshine and haze grow at the same time.

I haven't found the freedom that belongs to Rambo after all. I'm still looking for my freedom.

In a friend's book, I saw some poems written by Rambo and Wei Erlun in a drunken hut. Their names are always ruthlessly put together by history. Like anyone else, they should be a lonely individual, and their souls should belong to the land they love and the people they love.

People will eventually sleep in the holy land of their hearts with their lifelong love, hate and all their pursuits. I believe that there is a place that others can never reach and belongs to their own paradise.