允許秘籍的Minecraft服務器 - 《模拟农场19》怎么安装mod 安装方法指南_九游手机游戏

( Updated : October 27, 2021 )

🔥 DOWNLOAD LINK Links to an external site.






如何在命运 2 中获得 Supercharged mod，以及它的作用 《模拟农场19》怎么安装mod 安装方法指南_九游手机游戏
如何在命运 2 中获得 Supercharged mod，以及它的作用 【攻略】史萊姆農場 模組安裝教學 You need to have JavaScript enabled in order to access this site. 《模拟农场19》怎么安装mod 安装方法指南 大家喜欢的小短文有哪些?
模组[PHC]潘马斯农场(Pam's HarvestCraft)的介绍页，我的世界MOD百科，提供Minecraft(我的世界)MOD(模组)物品资料介绍教程攻略和MOD下载。 Supercharge mod 是Destiny 2 中的Charged with Light mod，玩家可以从Tower Annex 的Ada-1 获得。 对于任何想要真正打造强大角色的人来说，它都是 模拟农场19mod怎么安装？想必很多朋友都还不是很清楚吧，所以呢小编接下来给大家带来的就是模拟农场19mod安装方法介绍，需要的朋友还不快进来看看？ Additionally, with a. Legendary armor obtained in Destiny 2 is called Armor Each armor piece will have six armor stats, scaling from 1 to Each 以我的方式/我在路上. （选自Hotel Lautreamont）. 作者：(美)约翰.阿什贝利（John Ashberry）. 请原谅我的出现。我现在老了， 潜江开发区路威通Pheenet 熊口农场管理区TDL/通达联奕缆熊口镇立恒泽讯阳达白鹭 县察隅县工布江达县朗县林芝县波密县米林县是否为有机食品包装方式配送频次市 In some levels, there're tubes that 2 dots can come inside. □已知bug 作为一个精英特种部队的士兵。 이도시에서살아남은당신은최고의생존자! 反思自己的过错 以至于不重蹈覆辙才是真正的悔悟 比他人优越并无任何高贵之处 真正的高贵在于超越过去的自我 今年2月9日，本校举行新届董理事及校友会就职 To achieve a noble reputation by mod- destiny of relationship could begin from the univer-

手机版 诗生活网 粤ICP备号. Powered by Discuz! 设为首页 收藏本站. 帐号 自动登录 找回密码 密码 登录 立即注册. 快捷导航 首页 诗歌论坛 BBS 友情论坛 邀请好友. 搜索 搜索. 楼主: 剑郭琴符. 剑郭琴符 当前离线. 楼主 发表于 显示全部楼层. one of your friends of course he said make room for Miss Scott. and indeed I just meant to come back for a moment. and lo and behold I am the central protagonist. and it was centuries before I could disentangle. my sense of what I thought was right from the legal. converging on a new day and he said I'm with you. solarium and is it true I am to spend my entire life meddling. everything together just before it all blows up and I can. say yes once I had the meaning of it it was pretty good. and now all can see the meaning in it and I have forgotten. it all but it all still seems pretty good I guess he said. And now I cannot remember how I would have had it. It is not a conduit confluence? but a place. The place, of movement and an order. The place of old order. But the tail end of the movement is new. Driving us to say what we are thinking. It is so much like a beach after all, where you stand and think of going no further. And it is good when you get to no further. It is like a reason that picks you up and places you where you always wanted to be. This far. It is fair to be crossing, to have crossed. Then there is no promise in the other. Here it is. Steel and air, a mottled presence, small panacea and lucky for us. And then it got very cool. Everyone seemed pleased, even the then-invisible statisticians. who brought us to this pass. My barometer is working well;. a drop of milk in the scudding blue thinks so. the sky would stand up to greet me contemptuously. in that endearing way it sometimes has. My train is being flagged down. though I enjoyed singing when I knew the words. which wasn't that often. And you, you sang with me. in the evenings for a while, and Minnie and Joe the goat joined in. It was as impossible to enjoy the unseemliness of that present. as it was not to forget it, to cover it with showers. the gigantic tail of a horse projected beyond the bam door. The tail, I mean the tale, was beginning for us again. in ways too complicated to scrutinize, but we did come up with a set of questions. Then the interviewer said that was all for that day. I rehearsed the speech I would never have occasion to deliver. though it lent no conviction to the list of wildflowers I was annotating. I would say that on the whole it has been a good experience,. but I would also say that everything has been a good experience. I touched needles, and learned how they were sharp. and then we're on the right track, which is always a relief,. It was wrong of you to play this far, first; and when you had finished. you should not have raised your eyes to the sea that blinded us. through the open doors, even as you thought you had married it. and were obliged to. Or something. At this rate none of us will get our. sponge in time, while the river overflow with fish. If they knew we had indulged each otherbut what earthly. use does anything have? Why are we here? anything, but you are loved and it's your responsibility. I can see it nowand the likes of the haves. shall mingle with the have-nots, to some point. this time, we all hope, and the pride encoded. in the selection process that made us what we are,. of history were just some tune. That didn't prevent others. from really finishing the job, and in the process. turning up points of gold that are we say these. carpentered tune merely played along with all that. A weary sense of triumph ensued but it was the reality. And so one emerged scalded with the apprehension of this,. that this was what it was like. You gave me a penny, I. gave you two copies of the same word that were to fit. you like rubber ears. Is it my fault if in the dust. of the sensation something got knowingly underscored, defaced,. After all, it suited when you set out dressed. in plum and Mama was to meet us at the midpoint. of the journey but she got taken away and an old. dressmaker's dummy draped in soiled lace was substituted. the flowers husky and fierce as trees. On the spiffy. you should have sent them both years ago. A few. explain it with renewed mastery and suds. time for the watchman to tell it to the lamplighter. 回复 举报. though someday I shall be young again. the warming trend, more air, even the malicious smile in the prefecture garden turning away, only peering back into the blackness of the pit of water of night. Once I tried to wriggle free of the loose skein of people's suggestions. chirping my name. One can do that if one is rich. But for others a bad. better know before too long what the verdict is. As I said I was changing. and the colored disc of a beach umbrella, put up long ago against the sun. drumming, more clatter than seems normal. There is a remnant of energy. further learning and borders, as though these too came to see the sea. As when we bumble, maintaining steadfastly that there is no life in the truth of us,. on his fingertip is life enough for us under the present circumstances,. till pregnant pauses were abandoned, and miniskirts returned, and with them. reminding us of practical solutions so out of date they were all but forgotten. what ought to incite you is a new hunger for all the angles of whatever. that sometimes the gods bestow, and sometimes not; their reasons in the one. scented mornings where the light seems newly washed, the gnarled trees in the prime. ever tests you on these things, that nothing would have been different. whatever they call gods there. Then the reflected shimmer waxes bright. between the paws of the sphinx, nor does anything electrical have to interfere. being off on some expedition. So nothing works. But there is nothing there that can harm us. the house had undue influence on one of several. there never was such a person as Lisa Martins? and they draw the blind quickly to forget you. You might as well be trapped at the bottom of a well. I was only hired as a go-between. My tour is ended,. for clemency in your absence, leaving you holding. it's none of my business. Said the table to the chair. out through the open gate. The streets were full of people,. running back and forth, talking disjointedly. I was. supposed to be somewhere else, but no one knew it. seem to be harmless like those people are listening to over there;. at the same time, everyone's a suspect in the new. of the old tome, then another and another; soon. There's nothing in it anyway. Time to move on. to another frontier beyond the transparent frieze. Sure, dem days is gone forever, but it's the attention span. Back when they'd send for you. to hedge your bets and produce a fraternal twin. of the weather, of successive washes of light. in this tiny republic carved out of several conflicting. It's enough, perhaps, that I was questioned. at the edge of my performance. that mere forgetfulness can save up to fifty-three lives,. that they can share your power and go on glancing. original ones, the president, vice-president and treasurer. taken out of school and handed over to our parents. says you have to live up to principles; indeed, what are they? What difference does it make which one came too close. they were after was to coax you into the light,. watch you blink a minute, and then pass on, they too,. in the sand, the reeds, growing? here is another one unread, not written. Time for you to choose. up past them, into something that speaks of cloud. frightened, rather, while what comes as a ghost. laminated, or worse, into the meaning of chapters. that overlay one another like a horse's blankets. of Paris traffic, how expensive it all seemed at first;. later, a sparrow. Besides they all get out of their cars,. took first prize but I have to say climate never. nourished luck more, nor came out as an extraordinary. for all to see, till they saw, and the resultant gold-rush. skylight's hasp sicken the winter, the kitten. from the tops of the trees to the little houses. they none of them would leave without the other. he owned the place which he did, in a sense. a week from now. for what we both know is there: our crumbling infrastructure. Your pill, he urged. as a song. In the gray room he felt relaxed and singular,. And who gets the credit for it? Not what is understood,. To life,when life is precisely that dimension. It might just come close enough to being a living relic. I thought that if I could put it all down, that would be one way. And next the thought came to me that to leave all out, would be another, and truer, way. These are examples of leaving out. But, forget as we will, something soon comes to stand in their place. Not the truth, perhaps, but-yourself It is you who made this, therefore you are true. But the truth has passed on. Have I awakened? Or is this sleep again? Another form of sleep? There is no profile in the massed days ahead. They are impersonal as mountains whose tops are hidden in cloud. The middle of the journey, before the sands are reversed: a place of ideal quiet. You are my calm world. This is my happiness. To stand, to go forward into it. The cost is enormous. Too much for one life. There are some old photographs which show the event. It makes sense to stand there, passing. The people who are therefew, against this side of the air. They made a sign, were making a sign. Turning on yourself as a leaf, you miss the third and last chance. But it is your last chance, this time, the last chance to escape the ball. of contradictions, that is heavier than gravity bringing all down to the level. And nothing be undone. The memory of a stain, enacting the statute. It is the law to think now. To think becomes the law, the dream of young and old alike moving together where the dark masses grow confused. We must drink the confusion, sample that other, concerted, dark effort that pushes not to the light, but toward a draft of dank, clammy air. We have broken through into the meaning of the tomb. But the act is still proposed, before us,. it needs pronouncing. To formulate oneself around this hollow, empty sphere To be your breath as it is taken in and shoved out. Then, quietly, it would be as objects placed along the top of a wall: a battery jar, a rusted pulley, shapeless wooden boxes, an open can of axle grease, two lengths of pipe We see this moment from outside as within. There is no need to offer proof. The cold, external factors are inside us at last, growing in us for our improvement, asking nothing, not even a commemorative thought. An what about what was there before? This is shaped in the new merging, like ancestral smiles, common memories, remembering just how the light stood on the water that time. But it is also something new. To end up with, inside each other, moving upward like penance. For the continual pilgrimage has not stopped. It is only that you are both moving at the same rate of speed and cannot apprehend the motion. Which carries you beyond, alarmingly fast out into the confusion where the river pours into the sea. That place that seems even farther from shore There is nothing to be done, you must grow up, the outer rhythm more and more accelerate, past the ideal rhythm of the spheres that seemed to dictate you, that seemed the establishment of your seed and the conditions of its growing, upward, someday into leaves and fruition and final sap. For it is to be transcended The pace is softening now, we can see why it had to be. Our older relatives told of this. It happened a long time ago. 雅尔（Jean Michel Jarre）创作的音乐。年让. 雅尔（Jean Michel Jarre）成为联合国教科文组织（UNESCO）的慈善大使，曲目El dorado成为该组织的官方主题曲。. We have a friend in common, the retired sophomore. chomping on future considerations. In the ghostly. Ten shades of pleasing himself brings us to tomorrow. evening and will be back for more. I disagree. and fonder of you. So drink up. Feel good for two. I do it in a lot of places. Subfusc El Dorado. we knew, sometimes. as though anything I cared about could be difficult. or complicated now. That's the rub. Gusts of up. to forty-five miles an hour will be dropping in later. on tonight. No reason not to. So point at the luck. we know about. Living is a meatloaf sandwich. from getting stuck before. Dumb thing. All my appetites are friendly. or change the vows. The bold, enduring menace of courtship is upon us. the family and all, down there with a proximate sense of power,. lawyering up. Less log-heavy, your text-strategy. or pleased. Sometimes a porter evades the grounds. Last winning people told me to sit on the urinal. Do not put on others what you can put on yourself. consummated it was nobody's biz until you got there,. eyelids ashimmer, content with one more dispensation. from blue above. And just like we were saying,. in the mud-choked harbor. It could be summer again. Yeah, that's right. Bumped from our dog-perch,. little piles of notes, slopes almost Sicilian? Socks for comfort now boys will see later. Did they come? The inner grocery had to take three sets of clips away. See, your house, a former human energy construction,. some of us were relaxed, Steamboat Bill included. to be ready for their challenge, quite another to accept it. And if I had a piece of advice for you, this is it:. to irradiate its shallow flood in the new packaging. The Gold Dust Twins never stopped supplicating Hoosiers. of those days, crimping the frozen feet of Lincoln. have had it. It is so much like a beach after all, where you stand. This far, it is fair to be crossing, to have crossed. Steel and air, a mottled presence,. Boundary Issues. Here in life, they would understand. How could it be otherwise? We had groped too,. unwise, till the margin began to give way,. at which point all was sullen, or lost, or both. Now it was time, and there was nothing for it. We had a good meal, I and my friend,. slurping from the milk pail, grabbing at newer vegetables. Yet life was a desert. Come home, in good faith. You can still decide to. But it wanted warmth. Otherwise ruse and subtlety would become impossible. in the few years or hours left to us. The iconic beggars shuffled off too. I told you,. once a breach emerges it will become a chasm. before anyone's had a chance to waver. A dispute. on the far side of town erupts into a war. in no time at all, and ends as abruptly. The tendency to heal. sweeps all before it, into the arroyo, the mine shaft,. into whatever pocket you were contemplating. And the truly lost. make up for it. It's always us that has to pay. I have a suggestion to make: draw the sting out. as probingly as you please. Plaster the windows over. with wood pulp against the noon gloom proposing its enigmas,. its elixirs. Banish truth-telling. That's the whole point, as I understand it. Each new investigation rebuilds the urgency,. like a sand rampart. And further reflection undermines it,. causing its eventual collapse. We could see all that. from a distance, as on a curving abacus, in urgency mode. from day one, but by then dispatches hardly mattered. It was camaraderie, or something like it, that did,. poring over us like we were papyri, hoping to find one. correct attitude sketched on the gaslit air, night's friendly takeover. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑. to negotiate our release, if you can believe it. one of the craziest episodes that ever overtook me. My pod cast aside, I'll walk in the human street,. to endorse the conversation, request to be strapped in. I was crossing the state line as they were reburying the stuff. You break the time lock, the bride's canister Affects someone he does not know on the other side of the globe, who wants him. He wears a white suit,carries a white newspaper and apple,his hands and face are white;. Is taking over our governmen and threatening to become life as we know it! Oneself as a capital nuisance, never to be given the time of day again. The rest of our lives looking for, wondering whether it got misplaced. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑 仪式二. I talk two ways, first as reluctant explainer, then as someone offstage. Become so much its fabric that one listens to see what words materialize. Of this though, because when the universe does turn into a horror movie. It will mean Japanese undershirts for the kiddies and unusual, invisible. Demerits for those of us caught talking back at the screen, unless, of course,. The unnatural peace God predicted for us has settled like a giant shell. Over the ocean floor, in which case we shall all be forgiven and forgotten,. Like students in a correspondence school. And I mean what shall be saved. Of us as we live aimed at some near but unattainable mark on the wall? That might relieve all the years with spaces in them, years of! eggy growth,. There is so much we know, too much, cruelly, to be expressed in any medium,. Including silence. And to harbor it means having it eventually leach under. The spiritual retaining wall that so commends itself to us we can never. Be other, and become a different habitat altogether in which these transactions. Are the brittle sounds of insect wings, robbed of the solid clink of something. Like the reality that now accosts one. It is all, we see too late, a question. Of having the knack, but the knack is as universal as the wind that now protects,. Now buffets, and is not ours. Thus, we are more formal this year, can escape. Certain confrontations, obtain the release of certain compromised acquaintances. Without looking at what they may have become, foil the plans of a few. Middle-echelon apparatchiks until the day that finally does come to rest, busily,. At your doorstep. Put it into a clean jar. Save it from the time which. Has been, without promoting it too far beyond the Venetian blind of that. Happen to us scattered all over the ground like bruised rinds. Only say what. Cannot be done to us, for now, and keep us ever straying over the border into. Insanity and back, and by then, becalmed, we shall know the superior discipline. As something lived within us, something that magnetizes everything toward us. But beware the merely frivolous gesture, token of its own smile, which clamps. One supremely to one's own past, in which one is lost. Better the negative. Volumes of the lives of strangers carried out to a certain point just this side of. Emptiness, so as to be done with it. And those who may be hungry, or thirsty,. Or tired; those who lived in a landscape without fully understanding it, may,. By their ignorance and needing help blossom again in the same season into a new. Angle or knot, without feeling unwanted again. So, at any rate, it is written. And believed by some few, a hundred or maybe a thousand of the summarily instructed. Doors will forever bang in that wind, night moths assault the screens until. We know what we are thinking about once more. And that day may guide us. So the dream curved back into something natural it always does! Where we started, furious at being safe and sound again. The old oar-locks. Encased in moss, the same tire marks in the gravel. And we come together. To quarrel or make love without any memory of the crabbed ambitions that were there. Even tonight as I lie here placing a finger now on one page of the book, now. On another, as though by planting it there I might outgrow the busy destiny. If we are all going to be one, or together, in the space between the moment. Dust is gradually brushed away one does come upon it, that split-second. Possibly displace. I hear it calling to me. I must turn over a new leaf. It is the extreme last chance for doing so. I want it so much. And then the world is. Shredded as a blanket waiting for this to happen, returns to it like a kiss,. To that agreeable triangle in a sea of asphalt where one so rarely has difficulty. Getting a taxi, and all magic works, the wicked and the only misguided. Any petitioner much, even the servile ones. But night in its singleness. Even as they spoke the sun was beginning to disappear behind a cloud. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑 我收集的作者的短诗都翻译完毕，下面是作者的长诗翻译： 漏壶. Returned from moving the other. Authority recently dropped, wrested as much of. That severe sunshine as you need now on the way. You go. The reason why it happened only since. You woke up is letting the steam disappear. From those clouds when the landscape all around. Is hilly sites that will have to be reckoned. Into the total for there to be more air: that is,. More fitness read into the undeduced result, than land. This means never getting any closer to the basic. Principle operating behind it than to the distracted. Entity of a mirage. The half-meant, half-perceived. Motions of fronds out of idle depths that are. And expansion into little draughts. The reply wakens easily, darting from. Untruth to willed moment, scarcely called into being. Before it swells, the way a waterfall. Drums at different levels. Each moment. Of utterance is the true one; likewise none are true,. Only is the bounding from air to air, a serpentine. Gesture which hides the truth behind a congruent. Message, the way air hides the sky, is, in fact,. Tearing it limb from limb this very moment: but. The sky has pleaded already and this is about. As graceful a kind of non-absence as either. Has a right to expect: whether it's the form of. Some creator who has momentarily turned away,. Marrying detachment with respect, so that the pieces. Are seen as parts of a spectrum, independent. Yet symbolic of their staggered times of arrival;. Whether on the other hand all of it is to be. Seen as no luck. A recurring whiteness like. The face of stone pleasure, urging forward as. Nostrils what only meant dust. But the argument,. That is its way, has already left these behind: it. Is, it would have you believe, the white din up ahead. That matters: unformed yells, rocketings,. Affected turns, and tones of voice called. By upper shadows toward some cloud of belief. Or its unstated circumference. But the light. Has already gone from there too and it may be that. It is lines contracting into a plane. We hear so much. Of its further action that at last it seems that. It is we, our taking it into account rather, that are. The reply that prompted the question, and. That the latter, like a person waking on a pillow. Has the sensation of having dreamt the whole thing,. Of returning to participate in that dream, until. The last word is exhausted; certainly this is. Peace of a sort, like nets drying in the sun,. That we must progress toward the whole thing. About an hour ago. As long as it is there. You will desire it as its tag of wall sinks. Deeper as though hollowed by sunlight that. Just fits over it; it is both mirage and the little. That was present, the miserable totality. Mustered at any given moment, like your eyes. And all they speak of, such as your hands, in lost. Accents beyond any dream of ever wanting them again. To have this to be constantly coming back from Nothing more, really, than surprise at your absence. And preparing to continue the dialogue into. Those mysterious and near regions that are. Precisely the time of its being furthered. Seeing it, as it was, dividing that time,. Casting colored paddles against the welter. Of a future of disunion just to abolish confusion. And permit level walks into the gaze of its standing. Around admiringly, it was then, that it was these. Moments that were the truth, although each tapered. Into the distant surrounding night. Wasn't it their blindness, instead, and wasn't this. The fact of being so turned in on each other that. Neither would ever see his way clear again? Did not stagger the imagination so long as it stayed. This way, comparable to exclusion from the light of the stars. That drenched every instant of that being, in an egoistic way,. As though their round time were only the reverse. Of some more concealable, vengeful purpose to become known. Once its result had more or less established. The look of the horizon. But the condition. Of those moments of timeless elasticity and blindness. Was being joined secretly so. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑 从那以后，任何感觉的迹象都被. Thereafter any signs of feeling were cut short by. The progression of minutes by accepting them, as one accepts drops of rain. As they form a shower, and without worrying about the fine weather that will come after. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑 楼未发出的部分，怪哉！软件有bug啊，老问题了！ That their paths would cross again and be separated Only to join again in a final assumption rising like a shout And be endless in the discovery of the declamatory Nature of the distance traveled. All this is Not without small variations and surprises, yet An invisible fountain continually destroys and refreshes the previsions. But there was no statement At the beginning. There was only a breathless waste, A dumb cry shaping everything in projected After-effects orphaned by playing the part intended for them, Though one must not forget that the nature of this Emptiness, these previsions, Was that it could only happen here, on this page held Too close to be legible, sprouting erasures, except that they Ended everything in the transparent sphere of what was Intended only a moment ago, spiraling further out, its Gesture finally dissolving in the weather. It was the long way back out of sadness Of that first meeting: a half-triumph, an imaginary feeling Which still protected its events and pauses, the way A telescope protects its view of distant mountains And all they include, the coming and going, Moving correctly up to other levels, preparing to spend the night There where the tiny figures halt as darkness comes on, Beside some loud torrent in an empty yet personal Landscape, which has the further advantage of being What surrounds without insisting, the very breath so Honorably offered, and accepted in the same spirit. There was in fact pleasure in those high walls. Each moment seemed to bore back into the centuries For profit and manners, and an old way of looking that Continually shaped those lips into a smile. Or it was Like standing at the edge of a harbor early on a summer morning With the discreet shadows cast by the water all around And a feeling, again, of emptiness, but of richness in the way The whole thing is organized, on what a miraculous scale, Really what is meant by a human level, with the figures of giants Not too much bigger than the men who have come to petition them: A moment that gave not only itself, but Also the means of keeping it, of not turning to dust Or gestures somewhere up ahead But of becoming complicated like the torrent In new dark passages, tears and laughter which Are a sign of life, of distant life in this case. And yet, as always happens, there would come a moment when Acts no longer sufficed and the calm Of this true progression hardened into shreds Of another kind of calm, returning to the conclusion, its premises Undertaken before any formal agreement had been reached, hence A writ that was the shadow of the colossal reason behind all this Like a second, rigid body behind the one you know is yours. And it was in vain that tears blotted the contract now, because It had been freely drawn up and consented to as insurance Against the very condition it was now so efficiently Seeking to establish. It had reduced that other world, The round one of the telescope, to a kind of very fine powder or dust So small that space could not remember it. 本帖最后由 剑郭琴符 于 编辑 溜冰者. One collects bullets. An Indianapolis, Indiana man collects slingshots of all epochs, and so on. Subtracted from our collections, though, these go on a little while, collecting aimlessly. We still support them. Certain resonances are not utterly displeasing to the terrified eardrum. Some paroxysms are dinning of tambourine, others suggest piano room or organ loft. For the most dissonant night charms us, even after death. This, after all, may be happiness: tuba notes awash on the great flood, ruptures of xylophone, violins, limpets, grace-notes, the musical instrument called serpent, viola da gambas, aeolian harps, clavicles, pinball machines, electric drills, que sais-je encore! The performance has rapidly reached your ear; silent and tear-stained, in the post-mortem shock, you stand listening, awash. With memories of hair in particular, part of the welling that is you,. The gurgling of harp, cymbal, glockenspiel, triangle, temple block, English horn and metronome! And still no presentiment, no feeling of pain before or after. I do not expect constant attendance, knowing myself insufficient for your present demands. Bringing down meaning as snow from a low sky, or rabbits flushed from a wood. Always seem to meet, although parallel, and that an insane ghost could do this,. Dim banners in the distance, to die. And nothing put to rights. The pigs in their cages. Affair of brushwood, the sea is felt behind oak wands, noiselessly pouring. It is already after lunch, the men are returning to their positions around the cement mixer. And I try to sort out what has happened to me. The bundle of Gerard's letters,. Then the news of you this morning, in the snow. Sometimes the interval. Of bad news is so brisk that And the human brain, with its tray of images. And when we seek to move around, wondering what our position is now, what the arm of that chair. Disappeared in a bigamure of squiggly lines. The image with the crocodile in it became no longer apparent. The great tides on the scalloped awning have turned dry and blight-colored. No wind that does not penetrate a man's house, into the very bowels of the furnace,. Scratching in dust a name on the mirrorsay, and what about letters,. The regent of the winds, Aeolus, is a symbol for all earthly potentates. Since holding this sickening, festering process by which we are cleansed. A girl slowly descended the line of steps. The wind and treason are partners, turning secrets over to the military police. Lengthening arches. The intensity of minor acts. As skaters elaborate their distances,. Taking a separate line to its end. Returning to the mass, they join each other. Blotted in an incredible mess of dark colors, and again reappearing to take the theme. Some little distance, like fishing boats developing from the land different parabolas,. Taking the exquisite theme far, into farness, to Land's End, to the ends of the earth! A blanket disbelief, quickly supplanted by idle questions that fade in turn. Settles down at the end of a long spring day, over heather and watered shoot and dried rush field,. The studio light suddenly invaded the long casementvalues were what. This city. Is the death of the cube repeated. Or in the musical album. The meaning of all this. The meaning of Helga, importance of the setting, etc. So the floor sags, as under the weight of a piano, or a piano-legged girl. This leaving-out business. On it hinges the very importance of what's novel. Nothing but a bitter impression of absence, which as we know involves presence, but still. Nevertheless these are fundamental absences, struggling to get up and be off themselves. This, thus is a portion of the subject of this poem Which is in the form of falling snow:. That is, the individual flakes are not essential to the importance of the whole's becoming so much of a truism. That their importance is again called in question, to be denied further out, and again and again like this. Nor the importance of the whole impression of the storm, if it has any, is what it is,. But the rhythm of the series of repeated jumps, from abstract into positive and back to a slightly less diluted abstract. Having frozen the face of the bust into a strange style with the lips. Who, actually, is going to be fooled one instant by these phony explanations,. Think them important? So back we go to the old, imprecise feelings, the. Common knowledge, the importance of duly suffering and the occasional glimpses. Of some balmy felicity. I am fascinated. Further in and correcting the whole mismanaged mess. But am afraid I'll. Children make with a kind of ring, not a pipe, and probably using some detergent. The solar system. Trees brake his approach. And he seems to be wearing but. Haifa coat, viewed from one side. Returning from, the milk frozen, the pump heaped high with a chapeau of snow,. Face to face with the unsmiling alternatives of his nerve-wracking existence. Placed squarely in front of his dilemma, on all fours before the lamentable spectacle of the unknown. Yet knowing where men are coming from. It is this, to hold the candle up to the album. That trees continue to wave over it. That there is also a small museum somewhere inside. That the history of costume is no less fascinating than the history of great migrations. Problems about the tunic button etc. How much of any one person is there. Old light-bulb sockets, places where the whitewash had begun to flake. With here and there an old map or illustration. Looks like a weather map or a coiled bit of wallpaper with a design. But how is it that you are always indoors, peering at too heavily canceled stamps through a greasy magnifying glass? And only fear of snakes prevents us from passing the night in the open air. There is something fearful in these summer nights that go on forever. Still, I am prepared for this voyage, and for anything else you may care to mention. Suddenly, one morning, the little train arrives in the station, but oh, so big. And so it is. There people are free, at any rate. But where you are going no one is. Hotel reservations and all that rot. Old American films dubbed into the foreign language,. Coffee and whiskey and cigar stubs. Nobody minds. And rain on the bristly wool of your topcoat. Its sailboats are perhaps more beautiful than these, these I am leaning against,. Bearing me once again in quest of the unknown. These sails are life itself to me. I heard a girl say this once, and cried, and brought her fresh fruit and fishes,. The ticket seller is blowing his little hornhurry before the window slams down. The train we are getting onto is a boat train, and the boats are really boats this time. But I heard the heavens say Is it right? This continual changing back and forth? Laughter and tears and so on? This is just right for me. I am cozily ensconced in the balcony of my face. Looking out over the whole darn countryside, a beacon of satisfaction. Here I am then, continuing but ever beginning. Because it consists of purest ecstasy. I am happier now than I ever dared believe. The old stove smoked worse than ever because rain was coming down its chimney. Somewhere, from deep in the interior of the jungle, a groan was heard. Besides, the hotels are all full at this season. The junks packed with refugees. Returning from the islands. Sea-bream and flounder abound in the muddied waters That, and cigar rolling. Please leave your papers at the desk as you pass out,. You know. The couple descend. The steps of the little old church. Ribbons are flung, ribbons of cloud. And the sun seems to be coming out. But there have been so many false alarms No, it's happened! The storm is over. Again the weather is fine and clear. I can hear its whistle's roar! We have just time enough to make it to the dock! Golden and silver confetti. Smiling, we laugh and sing with the revelers. But are not quite certain that we want to gothe dock is so sunny and warm. And full of laughter and tears, we sidle once again with the other passengers. The ground is heaving underfoot. Is it the ship? It could be the dock And with a great whoosh all the sails go up. Hideous black smoke belches forth from the funnels. Smudging the gold carnival costumes with the gaiety of its jet-black soot. Only, as I said, to be continued. The eyes of those left standing on the dock are wet. Uncomplainingly into the atmosphere. Loving you? The question sinks into. The perspective lines of the barn are another and different kind of example. In which we escape ourselvesputrefying mass of prevarications etc. Still keeping in mind the coachmen, servant girls, duchesses, etc. Jeremy Taylor. Ages slightly. For the solutions are millionfold, like waves of wild geese returning in spring. So, coachman-servile, or scullion-slatternly, but each place is taken. How to excuse it to oneself? The wetness and coldness? Dirt and grime? A broken mirror nailed up over a chipped enamel basin, whose turgid waters. Reflect the fly-specked calendarwith ecstatic Dutch girl clasping tulips On the far wall. Hanging from one nail, an old velvet hat with a tattered bit of veilinglast remnant of former finery. The bed well made. The whole place scrupulously clean, but cold and damp. Can be made into a practical telephone, the two halves being connected by a length of wire. Things too tiny to be remembered in recorded historythe backfiring of a bus. In a Paris street in , and all the clumsy seductions and amateur paintings done. Filling up the available space for miles, like acres of red and mustard pom-poms. However, in the flame fountain. Add gradually one ounce, by measure, of sulphuric acid. To five or six ounces of water in an earthenware basin. Add to it, also gradually, about three quarters of an ounce of granulated zinc. A rapid production of hydrogen gas will instantly take place. Then add,. A multitude of gas bubbles will be produced, which will fire on the surface of the effervescing liquid. The whole surface of the liquid will become luminous, and fire balls, with jets of fire,. Will dart from the bottom, through the fluid with great rapidity and a hissing noise. Sure, but a simple shelter from this or other phenomena is easily contrived. But how luminous the fountain! Its sparks seem to aspire to reach the sky! And so much energy in those bubbles. A wise man could contemplate his face in them. With impunity, but fools would surely do better not to approach too close. Because any intense physical activity like that implies danger for the unwary and the uneducated. Great balls of fire! Then we used to take a smooth stick, and using the solution as ink, draw with it on sheets of white tissue paper. By means of a spark from a smoldering match ignite the potassium nitrate at any part of the drawing,. The fire will smolder along the line of the invisible drawing until the design is complete. Meanwhile the fire fountain is still smoldering and welling. Casting off a hellish stink and wild fumes of pitch. That flame writing might be visible right there, in the gaps in the smoke. Without going through the bother of the solution-writing. Before you find the entrance to that side is closed. The phosphorescent liquid is still heaving and boiling, however. And what if this insane activity were itself a kind of drawing. On April sidewalks, and young trees bursting into timid leaf. And dogs sniffing hydrants, the fury of spring beginning to back up along their veins? Yonder stand a young boy and girl leaning against a bicycle. The iron lamppost next to them disappears into the feathery, unborn leaves that suffocate its top. A postman is coming up the walk, a letter held in his outstretched hand. This is his first day on the new job, and he looks warily around. Alas not seeing the hideous bulldog bearing down on him like sixty, its hellish eyes fixed on the seat of his pants, jowls a-slaver. Nearby a young woman is fixing her stocking. Watching her, a chap with a hat. Is about to walk into the path of a speeding hackney cabriolet. The line of lampposts. Marches up the street in strict array, but the lamp-parts. Are lost in feathery bloom, in which hidden faces can be spotted, for this is a puzzle scene. The sky is white, yet full of outlined starsit must be night,. Or an early springtime evening, with just a hint of dampness and chill in the air Memory of winter, hint of the autumn to come Yet the lovers congregate anyway, the lights twinkle slowly on. Who has created it, throwing it up on the dubious surface of a phosphorescent fountain. For all the world like a poet. But love can appreciate it,. Use or misuse it for its own ends. Love is stronger than fire. The proof of this is that already the heaving, sucking fountain is paling away. Yet the fire-lines of the lovers remain fixed, as if permanently, on the air of the lab. Not for long though. And now they too collapse,. Giving, as they pass away, the impression of a bluff,. Its craggy headlands outlined in sparks, its top crowned with a zigzag. Of grass and shrubs, pebbled beach at the bottom, with flat sea. Holding a few horizontal lines. Then this vision, too, fades slowly away. Now you must shield with your body if necessary you. Remind me of some lummox I used to know the secret your body is. Yes, you are a secret and you must NEVER tell itthe vapor. Of the stars would quickly freeze you to death, like a tear-stiffened handkerchief. Held in liquid air. No, but this secret is in some way the fuel of. Your living apart. A hearth fire picked up in the glow of polished. Wooden furniture and picture frames, something to turn away from and move back to This is all a part of you and the only part of you. Here comes the answer: is it because apples grow. On the tree, or because it is green? One average day you may never know. How much is pushed back into the night, nor what may return. To sulk contentedly, half asleep and half awake. The painting of the hearth fire, or reach, in a coma,. Be sure the giant would know falling asleep, but the frozen droplets reveal. Scored the offer by fixed marches into what is. Move a pebble, to the plumbing contract, cataract. There has got to be onlythere is going to be. The meaning of tears, survey of our civilization. Only one thing exists: the fear of death. As widows are a prey to loan sharks. And Cape Hatteras to hurricanoes, so man to the fear of dying, to the. Certainty of falling. And just so it permits him to escape from time to time. Which is some comfort after all, for our volition to see must needs condition these phenomena to a certain degree. But it would be rash to derive too much confidence from a situation which, in the last analysis, scarcely warrants it. What I said first goes: sleep, death and hollyhocks. And a new twilight stained, perhaps, a slightly unearthlier periwinkle blue,. But no dramatic arguments for survival, and please no magic justification of results. Is all gone now. But the apothecary biscuits dwindled. Protects it then, and the poisonous filaments hanging down. Are armor as well, or are they the creature itself, screaming. To protect itself? An aggressive weapon, as well as a plan of defense? Nature is still liable to pull a few fast ones, which is why I can't emphasize enough. The importance of adhering to my original program. No hope is to be authorized except in exceptional cases. To be decided on by me. In the meantime, back to dreaming,. The most difficult of all is an arrangement of hawthorn leaves. But the sawing motion of desire, throwing you a moment to one side. And then the other, will, I think, permit you to forget your dreams for a little while. In reality you place too much importance on them. Ought to be your motto. If you dream at all, place a cloth over your face:. Its expression of satisfied desire might be too much for some spectators. The west wind grazes my cheek, the droplets come pattering down;. A vast design shows in the meadow's parched and trampled grasses. Beyond truer imaginings, is that it is a mystical design full of a certain significance,. Burning, sealing its way into my consciousness. Smooth out the sad flowers, pick up where you left off. But leave me immersed in dreams of sexual imagery:. Now that the homecoming geese unfurl in waves on the west wind. And cock covers hen, the farmhouse dog slavers over his bitch, and horse and mare go screwing through the meadow! A pure scream of things arises from these various sights and smells. As steam from a wet shingle, and I am happy once again. Walking among these phenomena that seem familiar to me from my earliest childhood. Tremendous billows far up on the gray sand beach, and the morning. After, odd tusked monsters lie stinking in the sun. Breadfruit, and berries garnered in the jungle's inner reaches,. Wrested from scorpion and poisonous snake. Fresh water is a problem. After a rain you may find some nestling in the hollow trunk of a tree, or in hollow stones. To climb to the top of the one tall cliff to scan the distances. Not for a ship, of coursethis island is far from all the trade routes But in hopes of an unusual sight, such as a school of dolphins at play,. A whale spouting, or a cormorant bearing down on its prey. So high this cliff is that the pebble beach far below seems made of gravel. Halfway down, the crows and choughs look like bees. Near by are the nests of vultures. They cluck sympathetically in my direction,. Which will not prevent them from rending me limb from limb once I have keeled over definitively. Further down, and way over to one side, are eagles;. Always fussing, fouling their big nests, they always seem to manage to turn their backs to you. The glass is low; no doubt we are in for a storm. Sure enough: in the pale gray and orange distances to the left, a. Delicate, transparent, like a watercolor by that nineteenth-century Englishman whose name I forget. I am beginning to forget everything on this island, If only I had been allowed to bring my ten favorite books with me But a weathered child's alphabet is my only reading material. It looks as though the storm-fiend were planning to kick up quite a ruckus. For this evening. I had better be getting back to the tent. To make sure everything is shipshape, weight down the canvas with extra stones,. Bank the fire, and prepare myself a little hardtack and tea. For the evening's repast. Still, it is rather beautiful up here,. Watching the oncoming storm. Now the big cloud that was in front of the waterspout. Seems to be lurching forward, so that the waterspout, behind it, looks more like a three-dimensional photograph. Above me, the sky is a luminous silver-gray. Yet rain, like silver porcupine quills, has begun to be thrown down. All the lightning is still contained in the big black cloud however. Now thunder claps belch forth from it，. Causing the startled vultures to fly forth from their nests. I really had better be getting back down, I suppose. Still it is rather fun to linger on in the wet,. Letting your clothes get soaked. What difference does it make? No one will scold me for it,. Or look askance. Supposing I catch cold? It hardly matters, there are no nurses or infirmaries here. To make an ass of one. A really serious case of pneumonia would suit me fine. There, now I'm being punished for saying so. I really am starting down now. Good-bye, Storm-fiend. Good-bye, vultures. In reality of course the middle-class apartment I live in is nothing like a desert island. Cozy and warm it is, with a good library and record collection. Yet I feel cut off from the life in the streets. Automobiles and trucks plow by, spattering me with filthy slush. The man in the street turns his face away. Another island-dweller, no doubt. In a store or crowded cafe, you get a momentary impression of warmth:. Steam pours out of the espresso machine, fogging the panes with their modern lettering. Of a kind that has only been available for about a year. The headlines offer you. News that is so new you can't realize it yet. A revolution in Argentina! Think of it! Bullets flying through the air, men on the move;. Great passions inciting to massive expenditures of energy, changing the lives of many individuals. Here, have another—crime or revolution? Take your pick. None of this makes any difference to professional exiles like me, and that includes everybody in the place. We go on sipping our coffee, thinking dark or transparent thoughts Excuse me, may I have the sugar. Why certainlypardon me for not having passed it to you. A lot of bunk, none of them really care whether you get any sugar or not. Just try asking for something more complicated and see how far it gets you. Not that I care anyway, being an exile. Nope, the motley spectacle offers no charms whatsoever for me And yetand yet I feel myself caught up in its coils Its defectuous movement is that of my reasoning powers The main point has already changed, but the masses continue to tread the water. Of backward opinion, living out their mandate as though nothing had happened. We step out into the street, not realizing that the street is different,. And so it shall be all our lives; only, from this moment on, nothing will ever be the same again. Fortunately our small pleasures and the monotony of daily existence. Are safe. You will wear the same clothes, and your friends will still want to see you for the same reasonsyou fill a definite place in their lives, and they would be sorry to see you go. There has, however, been this change, so complete as to be invisible:. I think we will call it that for easy reference. This room, now, for instance, is all black and white instead of blue. A few snowflakes are floating in the airshaft. Across the way. Plant your feet squarely. Grasp your club lightly but firmly in the hollow of your fingers. Slowly swing well back and complete your stroke well through, pushing to the very end. He throws the whole business into the flames: books, notes, pencil diagrams, everything. And its problems. To be out of these dusty cells once and for all. His day is breaking over the eastern mountains, at least that's the way he tells it. Only the crater of becominga sealed consciousnessresists the profaning mass of the sun. You who automatically sneer at everything that comes along, except your own work, of course,. Now feel the curious force of the invasion; its soldiers, all and some,. A part of you the minute they appear. It is as though workmen in blue overalls. Were constantly bringing on new props and taking others away: that is how you feel the drama going past you, powerless to act in it. And soon, even that relatively simple task may prove to be beyond my powers. The birch-pods come clattering down on the weed-grown marble pavement. Seventeen years in the capital of Foo-Yung province Foo-Yung province! By finding a hog-shaped piece that is light green shading to buff at one side. Announce your intention of leaving me alone in this cistern-like house. The persimmon velvet curtain rose swiftly to reveal a space of uncertain dimensions and perspective. At the lower left was a grotto, the cave of Mania, goddess of confusion. Larches, alders and Douglas fir were planted so thickly around the entrance that one could scarcely make it out. In the dooryard a hyena chained to a pole slunk back and forth, back and forth, continually measuring the length of its chain, emitting the well-known laughing sound all the while, except at intervals when what appeared to be fragments of speech would issue from its maw. Close by the entrance to the grotto was a metal shoescraper in the form of a hyena, and very like this particular one, whose fur was a grayish-white faintly tinged with pink, and scattered over with foul, liver-colored spots. The statue seemed to be made of lead or some other dull metal, painted an off-white which had begun to flake in places, revealing the metal beneath which was of almost the same color. As yet there was no sign of the invisible proprietress of the grotto. A little to the right and about eight feet above this scene, another seemed to hover in mid-air. It suggested the interior of an English pub, as it might be imitated in Paris. Time and the fumes of a public house had darkened the colors almost to a rich mahogany glow, and if one had not known the illustration it would have been difficult to make out some of the details. Seven actors and actresses, representing seven nursery-rhyme characters, populated the scene. Behind the bar the bald barman, Georgie Porgie, stood motionless, gazing out at the audience. In front and a little to his left,lounging on a tall stool, was Little Jack Horner, in fact quite a tall and roguish-looking young man wearing a trench coat and expensive blue jeans; he had placed his camera on the bar near him. He too faced out toward the audience. In front of him, his back to the audience, Little Boy Blue partially knelt before him, apparently performing an act of fellatio on him. Boy Blue was entirely clothed in blue denim, of an ordinary kind. To their left, Simple Simon and the Pie Man stood facing each other in profile. Simon was about the same age, but he was wearing a Buster Brown outfit, with a wide-brimmed hat, dark blue blazer and short pants, and a large red bow tie. At the opposite end of the bar sat two young women, their backs to the audience, apparently engaged in conversation. The first, Polly Flinders, was wearing a strapless dress of ash-colored chiffon with a narrow silver belt. She sat closest to Jack Horner and Boy Blue, but paid no attention to them and turned frequently toward her companion, at the same time puffing on a cigarette in a shiny black cigarette holder and sipping a martini straight up with an olive. Daffy Down Dilly, the other young woman, had long straight blond hair which had obviously been brushed excessively so that it gleamed when it caught the light; it was several shades of blond in easily distinguishable streaks. She wore a long emerald-green velvet gown cut very low in back, and held up by glittering rhinestone straps; her yellow lace-edged petticoat hung down about an inch and a half below the hem of her gown. She did not smoke but from time to time sipped through a straw on a whiskey sour, also straight up. Although she frequently faced in the direction of the other characters when she turned toward Polly, she too paid them no mind. Soon Boy Blue curled up in front of the bar and pretended to fall asleep, resting his head on the brass rail, and the hyena continued as before. Jack rearranged his clothing and turned toward the barman, who handed him another drink. At this point the statue of Mercury stepped from its pedestal and seemed to float upward into the bar scene, landing on tiptoe between Jack and Simple Simon. After a deep bow in the direction of the ladies, who ignored him, he turned to face the audience and delivered the following short speech. My point, however, is this. Instead of loitering this way, we should all become part of a collective movement, get involved with each other and with our contemporaries on as many levels as possible. No one will disagree that there is much to be gained from contact with one another, and I, as a god, feel it even more keenly than you do. My understanding, though universal, lacks the personal touch and the local color which would make it meaningful to me. These words seemed to produce an uneasiness among the other patrons of the bar. Even Little Boy Blue stopped pretending to be asleep and glanced warily at the newcomer. The two girls had left off conversing. After a few moments Daffy got down off her bar stool and walked over to Mercury. Opening a green brocade pocketbook, she pulled out a small revolver and shot him in the chest. Little by little the darkness began to dissipate, and a forest scene similar to that in the mural was revealed. It had moved forward to fill the space formerly occupied by the bar and its customers, and was much neater and tidier than the forest in the mural had been. The trees were more or less the same size and shape, and planted equidistant from each other. There was no forest undergrowth,no dead leaves or rotting tree trunks on the ground; the grass under the trees was as green and well kept as that of a lawn. This was because the scene represented a dream of Mania whose grotto was still visible in the lower left-hand corner of the stage , and, since she was the goddess of confusion, her dream revealed no trace of confusion, or at any rate presented a confusing absence of confusion. To the left, toward the rear of the scene, Alice appeared to be asleep at the base of a tree trunk, with a pig dressed in baby clothes asleep in her lap. A group of hobos who had previously been hidden behind the trees moved to the center of the stage and began to perform a slow-moving ballet to the music. Each was dressed identically in baggy black-and-white checked trousers held up by white suspenders fastened with red buttons, a crumpled black swallowtail coat, red flannel undershirt, brown derby hat and white gloves with black stripes outlining the contours of the wrist bones, and each held in his right hand an extinguished cigar butt with a fat gray puffy ash affixed to it. Moving delicately on point, the group formed an ever-narrowing semicircle around Alice and the sleeping pig, when a sudden snort from the latter startled them and each disappeared behind a tree. At this moment Mania emerged from her grotto dressed in a gown of sapphire-blue tulle studded with blue sequins, cradling a sheaf of white gladioli in the crook of one arm and with her other hand holding aloft a wand with a gilt cardboard star at its tip. Only her curiously unkempt hair marred the somewhat dated elegance of her toilette. Like the Wilis in Giselle, they appeared mesmerized by the apparition of the goddess, swaying to the movement of her star-tipped wand as she waved it,describing wide arcs around herself. None dared draw too close, however, for if they did so the snarling, slavering hyena would lurch forward, straining at its chain. At length she let her wand droop toward the ground, and after gazing pensively downward for some moments she raised her head and, tossing back her matted curls, spoke thus:. I shall not rest until I have erased all of this from my thoughts, or which is more likely incorporated it into the confusing scheme I have erected around me for my support and glorification. 下一页 ». 快速回复 返回顶部 返回列表. 读书散记 日记贴,持续添加 [复制链接]. 剑郭琴符 剑郭琴符 当前离线 积分 楼主 发表于 显示全部楼层 四重奏 （选自Hotel Lautreamont） 作者： 美 约翰. 无题 （选自Hotel Lautreamont） 作者： 美 约翰. 阿什贝利（John Ashberry） 译者:剑郭琴符 现在我不记得我会如何得到它。它不是管道（合流？）但是一个地方。地方，运动和秩序的。旧秩序的地方。但这场运动的尾声是新的。驱使我们说出我们正想的。毕竟，这很像一个海滩，你站在那里，不想再往前走了。当你不再前进的时候，它是好的。它像一个会把你挑选出来并把你放到你一直想去的地方的理由。如此遥远。正在横越，已经横越是公平的。然后在另一个里没有承诺。给你。钢铁和空气，斑驳的存在，为我们的小灵丹妙药和幸运。然后它变得很酷。. Untitled And now I cannot remember how I would have had it. 作品完成 （选自Hotel Lautreamont） 作者： 美 约翰. Oeuvres Completes Everyone seemed pleased, even the then-invisible statisticians who brought us to this pass. My barometer is working well; a drop of milk in the scudding blue thinks so. Maybe if I were shorter the sky would stand up to greet me contemptuously in that endearing way it sometimes has. I was never big on reading though I enjoyed singing when I knew the words which wasn't that often. And you, you sang with me in the evenings for a while, and Minnie and Joe the goat joined in. It was as impossible to enjoy the unseemliness of that present as it was not to forget it, to cover it with showers once spring had come. Once spring had come the gigantic tail of a horse projected beyond the bam door.
歐元卡車模擬器2最新版免費下載Mod
如何免費下載Minecraft Mods
dying light cheats pc reddit
how to teleport yourself to the end in minecraft
死島旋轉裂縫exe
如何mod roblox遊戲
如何旋轉整個模型roblox
League of Legends Hack免費下載
how fly in minecraft creative mode
盛大盜竊汽車V上帝模式作弊
how to install gta 5 mods rockstar launcher
7天死於最好的mods alpha 18
你能在破解的gta 5上安裝mods嗎？
天際如何擺脫狼人模式
Stardew Valley Teleport作弊
euro truck simulator 2 best mods reddit
rarest car in gta 5 story mode
how to change characters in director mode gta 5
call of duty pc hack generator
如何將mods添加到Minecraft領域
how to install a modpack in minecraft 1.12.2
how to make a graham cracker crust stay together
how to teleport to your bed in minecraft pe
gta 5 money cheats codes