垭口,在汉语的村庄与彝语的山寨之间,一个可以忽略的短暂停顿。汉字的偏旁与部首,在悄无声息里泅渡故乡的每一个角落。即将失语的我们,将如何忠贞地守候母语的绵延群山。垭口,梦语的酒杯盛满四季的思念,从那里开始泛滥成灾。山风的梭刀锋利地经纬,那些爬满寂寞蛛网的过往,震颤着内心每一缕敏感的神经。过路的风,决意将索玛 Pass, in the Chinese village and Yi cottage between the cottage, a negligent pauses. Radicals and radicals of Chinese characters, quietly in every corner of the hometown. We are going to be aphasia, how to be faithful to stay in the rolling hills of our mother tongue. Pass, dream language glass filled with four seasons of thoughts, from there began to flood disaster. Mountain blade sharp latitude and longitude, those crawling lonely cobwebs in the past, trembling every nerve inside the sensitive. Crossing the wind, determined to Soma