The People
Those migrant workers who demanded wages. Those
148 pairs of mutilated palms sticking out from the coal kiln in Daping.
Li Aiye, who contracted AIDS from selling blood.
The bachelor who tended sheep on the high slopes of the loess.
The long-winded woman who counts money with her saliva.
Hair salon girl, illegitimate sex worker.
The hawker who fights guerrilla warfare with the city police.
The
small bosses who need a sauna.
The commuters who ride bicycles.
The skaters with nothing better to do.
The wannabes in the bars. The old man drinking tea
while teasing the birds.
The scholars who confuse people.
The smelly drunkard, the gambler, the picker
the salesman, the crofter, the teacher, the soldier
the cockney, the beggar, the doctor, the secretary (and the honey)
the scandalous or
supporting character in the flat.
From Chang'an Street to Guangzhou Avenue
This winter I never met "the people"
Only countless humble talking bodies
sitting in public ****cars every day
warming each other.
Like dirty change
The people who use them, frown and hand them out, to society.
"I See My Motherland in a Pomegranate"
I see my motherland in a pomegranate
Large and full, the fruit of heaven and earth
It embraces its close-knit people
Naked skin guards crystal hearts
Billions of sons and daughters hold hands
Smiling tartly from branch to branch
A juicy autumn is a pregnant woman in labor
I want to remember every window of October
I touch the yellowish membrane inside the pomegranate
I am touching my fresh motherland
I see neighboring provinces
Sunny east leaning against shady west
I see the daughter of the plateau with the head crowned with flowers.
Each one of them has a flushed face
Sisters in pomegranate skirts are standing tall
Lips of pomegranate blossoms are reddish in color
And I see a split in the pomegranate
Brothers in the winds and in the shade
My beloved brothers
Their earthy yellow backs are tough
and they endure the hardships of the cracked earth. endured the hardships of the cracked earth
Every sinew represented their suffering
I found their palms very hardy
I found the grooves of the palms to be silent cries
The pain cried out to awaken the great swaths of foliage
They grew wildly along with the lure of the spring winds
The main trunks as well as many of the branches accepted the call
Branching again and again. >The branches are criss-crossed with branches
The branches are full of flowers
The rain can't extinguish their flames
One by one, they are heavy and light at the same time
The chimes of the buds awaken the dawn
The sun, the golden lion, is not yet old
It has already jumped on to the branches and begun its dance
I stand In dreams of splendor
Gazing at each pomegranate tree facing the sky
Like a citizen humbly bending down
Pulling out a fistful of heart
Full-bodied body hangs with a smile that fills the tree
High heavens and thick earth
The rivers and mountains are royalty
The rivers and mountains are my motherland
A rope
To strangle into my motherland
It's a rope
strangled into the spine of the plateau
The deep blood mark
is my silted up Yellow River
I am my own prisoner in its
muddy yellow waves
It's so yellow it's deeper than my skin color
Bronze, chrysanthemums, silks
Ten thousand hectares of autumn waves in the five grains of the richness and abundance of the harvests
Cangshu's The yellow land
Crawling with wrinkled gullies
I am alarmed at the sight of the Yellow River
Nine curves and eighteen bends
Long washed away Constantly deposited
Hukou Falls spit out a few more muddy names
More and more the Yellow River
Is the aphorism It is the aphorism
Crashing boisterously right over my head
"Summertime System"
The train leaves early
The maiden matures early
The candles on the birthday cake
Blown out early
An elaborate murder
White knives go in early
Red knives come out early
It's just that the chicks in the hatching room refused to come out of their shells
just that At nightfall
The moon is not white
The realistic writer who runs in the morning on the road
At a moment when there would have been no car
The first car hits and kills him Understanding
Dark humor and absurdism
The guy who goes to his date at the same place at the same time
The guy who meets another girl from then on
The dead guy who lies in a crematorium
The dead guy who lies in a crematorium
The dead guy who lies in a crematorium
The dead guy who lies in a crematorium
Honoring years in vain
Inexplicably stolen an hour of sunny air
One dumbfounded
Is time just?
1989
"Yankee State of the Present"
Eating a black pepper steak at a brewpub
and then "hitting the road," and then
walking past the flowery stalls.
In the south where there is no darkness
Witnessing money and fictitious love for girls he doesn't know
Half of his heart is stale.
Occasionally, from a pile of icky words called poems
sticks his head out
like a fly squatting on garbage.
1994
Meeting a Small Paddy Field in Dongguan
The toe crevice of a factory building
Dwarf rice
Desperately clinging to the last bits of soil
Its root anchors
Wearily open
Weary, angry hands Trying to gouge the sounds of birds and bugs out of muddy water
From a bright patch of sunlight
I see the leaves
shrugging their backs
and the ears of rice pulling at the nodes
and the grains grouting and smiling in the summer breeze
talking to me
At once I am wrung out of the sea of clamor and fidgeting
like a white shirt
and I've got to go back and forth. >Yesterday I could not have imagined
in Dongguan
that I would meet a small paddy field
green and yellow rice ears
have been swaying in
moments of elation and grief
May 2001
"Tianhe City Plaza"
In my memory, " Plaza"
was never a place for political rallies
open-air open spaces, where ten thousand people reveled
bloated collectives, full of slogans and flags, slogans on fire
staging comedies or tragedies, sometimes turning into farces
caught in the middle of it all, a man who was blind
like a leaf that In the gusty winds
the whole forest clamors, thrills and even trembles
And in the muggy and rainy Guangzhou, the economic vegetation grows wildly
This once seemingly solemn word
is named after nothing more than a large commercial building
multistory building. Ninety-six thousand square meters
Entering the square are people who are lazy and peaceful
No big deal, like me
Living comfortably or being shy
But his or her arrival is not passive
Longings and desires are directed toward something specific
They have their eyes fixed on something concrete
Even picking out a hairpin can be a big deal, but it's a big deal. Even when picking out a hairpin, they pay attention to detail
Those who rush to grab one and pay for it are mostly outsiders
The lively, friendly smiles of the salesgirls
temporarily drowned out their complaints about the traffic jams
and their whining about being patronized by thieves right after they left the train station
The teenage girls who came to attend the fashion demonstrations
dressed in revealing clothes
Two long, toned legs, more like herons
Walking here in twos and threes
Whose husbands accidentally bumped into the glass
The royal compound that is seldom worth a visit in the South
I walk my outsider friends halfway up the street here from time to time
No resonant speeches are to be heard here
And all whispering I end up with heavy legs and a tired body
On the second floor of the Sky Trade South mall
A girlfriend gave me a youth suit with metal buttons
Woolen material. Stiff. Nobler than a suit
If you add a scarf around your neck
You become the revolutionary youth of May 4
This is today's plaza
The only link to the past and the far north
November 26, 1998
Love
Opening up to the piano, rows of white teeth gleaming
Music speaks
Open the piano
I see ten dwarfs galloping on a zebra
Wisps of thick cloud roll over the silver waves of the sea
A lamb bleats under a black whip
A thrush blinks its eyes in the snow
The waddling penguins, split in two
Breast and back clearly separated?
Life is a whole
Open the piano
Cao Zhi paces seven steps back and forth
Night and day, inch by inch, shift
February 24, 1994
The Cottonwood in the Backlight
The Tree of Dreams Dusk settles behind it in a big way
In the backlight it looks So clear
The subtle fluctuation of life's trunk
For whom it shines so brightly The silver lines are so dazzling
The air radiates an overflowing beauty that will never disappear
The ten thousand lights that speak of existence
At the moment it is a spiritual catastrophe
In the midst of a nobility of air that encompasses it?
We fall y
Become prostrate plants
Whose hands are wringing low the sun's wick
Only its flame of light rises
Flower of desire The unseen flower of this season
Blown high by the last passion
Our souls fly in its branches
When obscurity draws nigh Everything sinks
In the landscape of the mind
Black silhouettes mean everything
Related and Unrelated
Bird flu is related to chickens and ducks, influenza A isn't related to pigs
SARS is still ambiguously related to the civet
It's not a medical problem, it's a matter of the people who can say what they mean, and make the animals bear the burden of the crime
Theft of books isn't theft, and French fries aren't the same as potatoes. And french fries are not potatoes
Anything that goes down can go up
An animal that can't talk can't get a lawyer to defend it
9/11 was about Al Qaeda, and Hezbollah has nothing to do with Allah
Today's bombings in Afghanistan have nothing to do with Osama bin Laden, who's just a beaver, in a rock, a tree, a hole in the ground, and a pangolin, and a mole. Moles, day and night
The Americans would have to be beasts to deal with him. Funny, funny, funny.
Iraq was about big oil, Saddam wasn't about weapons of mass destruction
Obama's Peace Prize is a bit of a Bush Jr. connection
If it wasn't for Bush Jr.'s belligerence, how would Obama have ever had the opportunity to talk peace?
Europe got rich first by selling gunpowder
Awarding a prize to the United States, which is fighting in the East, is fun
The surge is for peace, and the fight against terrorism is for a truce
The two migrant workers who coughed on a long-distance bus the other day
are the very same Chinese workers who were almost named Time Magazine's Person of the Year
They were voted to throw them out on a freezing snowstorm by all the passengers of the bus. voted into the freezing cold
Many people in this country pretend they have nothing to do with democracy
but sometimes they have to secretly use this magic weapon
against those who are weaker and more helpless than they are
"Awakening to Bestiality on Safari"
At this time I am so close to the birds, the beasts, and the bugs
Animals. It's beautiful, the plants are beautiful
I'm walking with you in the hustle and bustle of the crowd
but away from humans
The curving water, the flamingos standing on one leg
A cloud of fire
Deep in the water but higher than the water
Koalas that eat eucalyptus leaves
This sleep goes on and on and on, and the sleep is beautiful
The slavery of the white tiger It's ugly
Their show is beautiful
The toucan's long beak, big red and yellow
Like a trumpet that can't be blown
The parrot's call is clear and its tail feathers are beautiful
Thirty-five degrees Celsius in the south
Drops of sweat fall off his face on the concrete floor
"Bared "like red-hot iron quenched in cold water
You're a graceful tree
Lush hair is sweet-sucking grass
Arms are like swaying green branches, dripping leaves
A nibble by a wildebeest
An antelope runs, a kangaroo jumps
Chimpanzees toss cute faces
The long-tailed monkey goes up and down.
Long-tailed monkeys jump up and down, golden eagles startle
I long to be like them, to fly up into the sky
Spreading out and rolling in the grass
They look at us in our cages, fully clothed -
It's such a strange bunch of creatures:
Covering up the shame of the knowing The body and the heart of shame
Faces bare, cold eyes with reward
To bind the living life
To build cages, to imprison the peacock's plume, the rattlesnake's letter
The lion's regal head ......
I perspire
Seeing panic in a monkey's eyes
I'm getting crowded around me
All animals are beautiful
Loving them requires staying away from humans