Yu Guangzhong
Bitan
Sixteen handles of cinnamon pulp cracked the green glaze
A few romances hid under a parasol
My, I didn't bring it with me, my romances
Downstream from the river
If the grasshopper boat was more glassy
It could shine a side view of my sorrows
If the grasshopper boat was more grasshoppery
It could shine a side view of my sorrows. If the blue pool were more glassy
It could have been a reflection of my sorrow
If the grasshopper boat were more grasshoppery
My sorrow would have been extinguished
It was half past eight. The drawbridge is still awake
Summer has just begun and summer is young
The laughter of sophomore girls flies over the water
Fly in the dragonflies, fly out the dragonflies
Fly in you. If you are perched on the stern of my boat
How light this canoe should be
This double slurry should remember
Who is Xishi, who is Fan Li
Then paddle to the Taihu Lake, paddle to the Dongting
Listen to the cries of the apes of the Tang Dynasty
Paddle to the gurgling river of the sky
Look at your hair, in the myth
Then the boat is overturned.
You're weaving your brocade on the other side
I'm playing my flute on this side
From last eve to the next
Nostalgia
When I was a child
Nostalgia is a small stamp
I'm on this side
My mother's on the other
When I grew up nostalgia was a narrow ship ticket
My mother's on the other side
I'm on the other side of the river
I'm on the other side of the river
I've never seen the same thing in my life. A narrow boat ticket
I'm here
My bride is there
Later
Nostalgia is a short grave
I'm outside
My mother's inside
Now
Nostalgia is a shallow strait
I'm here
The mainland is there
I'm here
I'm not.
Wind Chimes
My heart was the wind chimes hanging on the eaves of a seven-storey tower
And they tinkled
And they continued to ring out one's name
---- Do you feel the vibrations in your tower too?
It's the pulse of silence, day and night
Do you hear it, ting ting ting ting?
This annoying tone cannot be stopped
Unless all the winds are diverted
The bells are plucked and the towers knocked down
For my heart is a wind chime high and low
Tinkling
And yet, it continues to rise
And to strike a chord with a name
Waiting for you, in the rain
Waiting for you, in the rain, in the rain, in the rain, in the rain, in the rain. You, in the rain, in the rainbow rain
Cicadas falling, frogs rising
A pool of red lotus like red flames, in the rain
It doesn't matter if you come or not, it feels like
Every lotus looks like you
Especially in the twilight, in the rain
Eternity, a flash, a moment, eternity
Waiting for you, in the middle of time
In the middle of time
I'm waiting for you, in the middle of time
I'll wait for you, in the middle of time, in the middle of time
And then I will be there to see you again, in the rain. In time? In time, waiting for you, in a flash, in eternity
If your hand were in mine, at this moment
If your fragrance
were in my nostrils, I would say, "Lover boy
No, this hand should be picking lotuses, in the palace
This hand should be
Shaking a cinnamon stick in a magnolia boat
A star hanging on the eaves of the science museum
A star hangs from the eaves of the Science Museum
An earring like a pendant
The Swiss watch says it's seven o'clock. Suddenly, you come
Fluttering like a red lotus after a rainy day, you come
Like a little song
You come from a love story
You come from the lyrics of Kang Baiseok, rhyming with rhyme
The piccolo that invites a soul to come back to the palace.
The soul returns, O mother, the East cannot stay long
The tropical sea that gave birth to the typhoon
The North Pacific in July has a low barometric pressure.
The soul returns, O Mother, the South cannot stay long,
The one-way street of the sun train
The equatorial moxibustion pedestrians' feet in July.
The soul returns, O mother, the north cannot stay long,
The white kingdom of the reindeer,
There is no night of rest in July, only day.
The spirit returns, O mother, the foreign country must not stay long.
The little urn is dreaming by the window,
with the plants that you planted with your hands.
Come back, Mother, to guard your little town after the fire.
When the spring comes, I will walk on the cold and wet road of Qingming,
and bury you in a small grave in my hometown.
I will bury you in a small town in Jiangnan.
The weeping hair of the willow hangs straight down to your grave,
and when spring comes, you will have a girl's dream,
dreaming of your mother.
And on the way to the clearing, O mother, my footprints will be deep,
Rain dripping from the willow's long hair, O mother, dripping with my memories,
The soul will come back to the city, O mother, to guard the empty city of the four directions.
Seeking Li Bai
-- Drinking and singing in vain
Who is the male who is soaring and domineering
That pair of haughty boots still falls in
Gao Li Shi's shameful hands, but the person has disappeared
Putting the ground full of refugees and wounded soldiers
Putting the
Leave the rhythm of the huoma and the qiang flute to Du Er to recite in painstaking detail
Ever since He Zhizhang's eyes were dazzled that year
when he recognized you as an exiled immortal, he has become even more feisty
With a small wine pot under a magic spell
He hides himself away so that not even his wife can find him
He complains about the smallness of the city of Chang'an, but the sky in the pot is long
You prophesied in all the poems
that you would be the first to be able to see the world in the future, and that you will be the first to be able to see the world.
In all your poems, you predicted
that you would suddenly disappear, perhaps tomorrow
Just a flat boat breaking the waves, hair in disarray in the wind
You've got a lot of enemies, and the world wants to kill you
How can you be killed by cirrhosis of the liver?
The remaining three minutes were turned into sword energy
Half of the Tang Dynasty was spat out in one breath
From Yiyuan to Tianbao, from Luoyang to Xianyang
The crown was filled with the hustle and bustle of the carriages
Not as much as your one in a thousand years
A crystal poem knocked on my forehead
The local bullet was picked up and the echo was heard
The crystal was picked up by the winds.
The echoes of a single play in the ground
It's bad enough that you've been demoted to the world
It's too embarrassing to put on the night sky
It's still a mystery as to where you're from
Longxi or Shantung, Qinglian Township or Shattered Leaf City
Which hometown do you want to go back to?
All the places where you are drunk, you said, are not your hometown
Disappearance is the only thing that can happen to a genius
Where are you going to go after this?
The wolf can't stop crying, and Du Er can't stop persuading you
When I turn around, my head is already gray under the window
The Seven Immortals and the Five Friends can't save you
Kuangshan Mountain is locked by the fog, and there's no way to get in
I'm still in the fire, but I'm only half a grain of dancethe sand
How can I follow the streaming clouds in Ge Hong's sleeve?
The shadow of the moon in the bottle, perhaps that is your hometown
often get you to look up all your life?
And no matter if you go out and cry to the west or to the east
Chang'an has already fallen
The 240,000-mile journey home
There's no need to scare the roc, and there's no need to invite the crane
All you have to do is to throw the glass of wine in the air
It will turn into a flying saucer
The flash of the magic is spinning faster and faster
It's going to take you back to the legend.
The sky asks
Why are the sunsets on the water
one after another
disappearing into the twilight?
The lights of the earth
One by one, why
Are they all lost in the night?
The stars in the sky
One by one, why
have they all disappeared into the dawn?
And how is it that our lives,
day by day,
end in eternity?
And when I go away
what is the color of the sky that takes me away
?
Was it twilight?
Was it the night?
Is it the dawn color?
A fire bath
An unquenchable longing for different elements
For different spaces, hot or cold
Not knowing whether to rise or fall
Rising like a phoenix, rising in the midst of the fire
Or floating in a flowing transparency, a swan
A white image of the self
A long neck and a rich body, all made of fire. A long neck and a full body, all made of curved lines
There is a desire to wash and a desire to burn
A process of purification, both of which are needed
Sedimentation is needed to sedate, and fluttering to flutter
To go to the water as a fowl, to go to the fire as a bird, firebird and waterfowl
Then I shall choose, and which process shall I choose
In the West, there is a swan that swims in the ice
It is the cold zone, a superhuman creature.
It's the cold zone, a superhuman climate
Where the ice freezes and the loneliness freezes
Silence is the stillness of time, and the reflection is complete
Once, every wild goose was a swan
The water shimmered, like a dream or a reality
In the East
In the heat of the East, there's a phoenix
That comes from the fire and comes back to the fire
Step by step, the fire reels and the flames.
The flame that cleanses the sins of the warrior, the blood of the warrior
And the soul, what choice should you make
Do you choose the cold of the cold or the heat of the hot
Choose the sea of ice or choose the sun
There is a purity of the soul that is always impure
Or to bathe in the ice or the fire is the fulfillment
It is an adorable fulfillment, and the bathing in the fire is the fulfillment
The fire is the fulfillment.
The bath of fire is more adorable, the bath of fire is more difficult
Fire is more transparent than water, deeper than fire
O fire, the gate of eternal life, arched with death
arched with death, an arched challenge
saying that he who has not embraced death can't be born
It is the crows, the phoenixes, that decide to take the fire in a single moment
a single moment, the will to swallow the fire
A thousand canes, a thousand lashes to accept that kind of punishment. And to accept that kind of punishment
I cry out frankly to the thousand tongues of the Crown
I'm not guilty! I am not guilty! I am not guilty! Branding my back
Branding my face I am still me, still
I am awake, my soul, what is wrong with being awake
Zhang Zhang's burning arms seem to smell far away
The hurricane of time is whistling my wings
Hair sobbing, bones moaning, with my own blood
Tormenting myself, flying, phoenixing your new life
Chaos:
My song is an unending yearning. The song is an unquenchable yearning
My blood boils and stops to bathe my soul in fire
In blue ink, listen to the song of fire
Raised up, clearer and higher after death
The Stone Age
Whenever I stood dumbfounded at the window
To a spread-out hand
I couldn't get out the stone of destiny
Proving that I am who I am
The stone of destiny
It's so strange
It's as if we're still in the stone age
A clumsy four-sided weapon
I have to carry it with me every day when I leave the house
Signing it by hand and in person isn't enough
It must wait for the next time that I have to go out and sign it with my hand.
The woman in the window won't give up until the stone nods its head
When you die, you need a stone to recognize ghosts
When you live, you need a stone to recognize people
Why, after thousands of years
you still can't get rid of the stone's spell
I ask you, stone in the bag
When will you let go of the stone? Spring
And in the end that's all it is
Some wounded memories
Some desires and dust
Or maybe the so-called spring is just a crisp specimen
A bookmark that was once a daffodil or a butterfly
A funeral of the stars
A light blue night spills through the window and summer pours out
And the little palace lights of the fireflies dream
And the firefly's The bhikkhuni always counts her rosary beads under the grapevine
Purple murmurs, knocking at my window
The sun, the sun is a late newsboy
Can't throw in any golden news
I can't throw my melancholy
Out of the wall like a six-legged insect's remains
When the wind is like a greedy wild boy
The wind is like the wind in the sky
The wind is like the wind in the sea. A greedy wild boy
I'm looking for someone's neck by sweeping away my long hair
I'm boarding a long-distance blue stagecoach
To the south, to the south that's not yet gone
Yuan Tong Monastery
The mirror is so big, look at me standing in the middle of it
There's no reflection of Narcissus
I think that the flowers don't stick to my body and the light travels on
If the bronze bell snaps up
If the bhikkhuni is a man who has been in the world for years, then I've got to go to the temple. The bronze of the bell is snapped
Listen to the moss that slides down the years
The round skull that has been coiled since
The top of the pagoda is the clouds of India, and the top of the pagoda is my mother
Open the box of ashes and peek into the umbilical cord of my body
All that connects me was once
My mother is here, and my mother isn't here
Siddhartha is here, and Siddhartha isn't here
Siddhartha is always on the opposite side of the tablet
Siddhartha is always on the opposite side of the tablet.
The Buddha is in Tang, the Buddha is in Dunhuang
No, the Buddha sits under the Borneo tree
before the cradle, after the coffin
And the lion does not roar, and the bells do not chime, and the Buddha does not speak
Hundreds of steps down, the cries of a daughter
call me back to the rest of my life
Forever, I will be waiting for you
If you are to be heard, you have to be heard, and the best of all.
That verb, if I die that night
What fear do I have? When I love
I must love miserably, and if I can't love magnificently
Your beauty has split me up for no reason, this summer
With a pen of God's hand, you landed
In the palm of my hand, you landed
In my palm, in the palm of my hand
For example, in the twilight of the end of the summer, in the face of the pool of freshness
In the face of the silent
Which one is it, which one will promise me
if I call you by your nickname?
As long as there is still a pool, as long as there is still summer
The general red color, and why should I meet with you?
The lotus is Zhen Zhen's nickname, and the lotus is Zhen Zhen
Once you think of Zhen Zhen, you can see the lotus
As long as there is still in your heart, and as long as there is still in your dream
There is still a petal of freshness and warmth, which means that the summer has already passed away
That is, the remnants of the stumps on the ground, that is, the remnants of the star in the sky, and the immortality of the soul of the lotus
Forever, I am waiting for you to part your lips, to open your teeth, and to spit out the verb. That verb
Whoever has loved, never forgets. What has been wounded
will always be traumatized. My wounds
are so red that they are shocking, branded in the shape of a lotus flower
Nostalgia in four rhymes
Give me a ladle of Yangtze River water ah Yangtze River water
Wine-like Yangtze River water
Drunkenness
The taste of nostalgia
Give me a ladle of Yangtze River water ah Yangtze River water
Give me a piece of Begonia red ah Begonia red
Give me a Lamei fragrance
Motherly Lamei fragrance
Motherly fragrance
is the fragrance of the countryside
Give me a Lamei fragrance
Xiluo Bridge
Standing, the soul of steel wakes up
Serious stillness clangs
Xiluo Plain of the sea winds violently shaking the
The bridge is a great example of a bridge. This
pattern of force, this web of beauty, shakes every nerve of this
tower of will,
shakes hard, and whistles in despair
while the teeth of the iron nails clench, and the hands of the iron arms grip
the serious stillness.
And so my soul awoke, and I knew
that the crossed me would be different from
the uncrossed me, and I knew
that I on the other side could not be restored to
the me on this side
but fate reached out from a mysterious point
with a thousand welcoming arms, and I had to cross the river
to face the river that leads to another
world.
The corridor that leads to another world, I tremble slightly
But the mighty winds of the Western Spiral Plain
Punch me in the face and tell me that the sea is on the other side
I tremble slightly, but I
must cross the river!
Standing, massively silent.
Awake, the soul of steel.
1958.3.13
Note: On March 7, I was traveling north with Xia Jing, and I was about to cross the Xiluo Bridge, so I stopped to take photographs.
The police officer guarding the bridge borrowed a telescope from me to look at the other side of the bridge for a long time and said, "I have been guarding the bridge for so long, but I still don't know what it looks like at that end!"
What does the rain say
What does the rain say all night long?
The upstairs light asks the tree outside the window
The tree outside the window asks the car at the end of the alley
What does the rain say all night?
The car at the end of the alley asks the road in the distance
The road in the distance asks the bridge upstream
What does the rain say all night?
The bridge upstream asks for the umbrella of the hour
The umbrella of the hour asks for the wet shoes
What does the rain say all night?
The wet shoes ask the screeching frogs
The screeching frogs ask the fog around them
What does it say, the sound of rain all night?
The fog asked the lamp upstairs
The lamp upstairs asked the man under the lamp
The man under the lamp looked up and said
What hasn't stopped yet:
From the legend, it has fallen to the present
From the fall of the rain, it has fallen to the surging of the rain
From the eaves leaks to the river and the sea
I ask you, you stupid moss
What is it about?
Kicking and Tapping
- Clogs and Ancient Suite No.2
Kicking and Tapping
Tapping and Tapping
Give me a pair of clogs
so I can wake up from my childhood
like a stupid little instrument
from the top of the alley
to the bottom
of the alley.
From the top of the alley
To the bottom of the alley
Tap-tap-tap
Tap-tap-tap
Give me a pair of clogs
Childhood summers call me
To catch up with other tricks
From the top of the alley
To the bottom of the alley
Kick-tap-tap-tap
Give me a pair of clogs
The magical rhythm leads me
back to the fairy tale world
From the top of the alley
to the bottom
Kick, kick, kick
Kick, kick
Kick, kick, kick
The pearls
Rolled out in the corners of the memories
Half of a lifetime, what a precious day.
I thought I'd never be able to find them again
But the girl in the jewelry store
brought them to me on a blue magnetic plate
with a smile on her face, and asked
"Do you like this 18-inch necklace?
Just like this, thirty years have become a string of years
Less than an inch a year, it's so expensive
Each grain contains a silver gray crystal
Warm and complete, just like every day I had the honor to
share with you
Every grain, the dewdrops of a sunny day
Every grain, the raindrops of a cloudy day
The day we parted, every grain, the raindrops of a cloudy day
Every grain, the raindrops of a cloudy day, the raindrops of a cloudy day
Imported whiskey is not as strong as Lu wine
It's too strong, and it's Wang Lun
who's to blame for it, telling Hu Ji
to pour it into the glass over and over again
You should listen to your doctor, not Wang Lun
Cirrhosis of the liver, and wasn't it said in the paper yesterday that it had been upgraded to the number seven killer
Just now, we have a new generation of people who have been killed in the past, but we've got a lot of people who have been killed in the past.
Just killed a martial arts celebrity
You keep saying that you want to seek immortality and chivalry
Is Kunlun too far away, so close to your bottle of wine
to find the Dirt Man and the Confused Immortal?
- Oh be careful, it's so close
Overtaking this container truck is no child's play
Slow down, slow down, I'm begging you
The statistics of traffic accidents in the past few years
are no less than the casualties of the An Shi Rebellion
This is the world of the world is not the world of the world.
It's not like running on the highway.
The speed limit is 90 kilometers.
How did you get to 144?
Stop making poems about traveling to the fairies, you might as well
Go watch a Spielberg movie
- hey, listen, it looks like an ominous siren
Catching up, just pull over
Switch seats with me, quick, don't let
The traffic cop Catch you driving drunk
With alcohol running through half your veins
The poet's image is bad enough
Critics and cops are equally unforgiving
The ID card says suspiciously "unemployed."
Don't talk about banishment or not banishment.
Besides, your license was impounded by the store for a drinking debt last week.
Gauleiter.
Gao Li Si and the councilors are all offended.
And He Zhizhang isn't here, so who's going to protect you?
- Six thousand dollars?
I'll pay it back when I win the lawsuits over Hard to Walk and Hard to Road
and the royalties are paid to me: it's really not fair
that the Publishing Act is enforced as seriously as the rules of the road
every day?
If Wang Wei hadn't gone to a symposium on pollution in Rim River early in the morning
we would have
taken his old car back to Pingtung
and cherished each other
Oh, I was gifted with an immortal's golden hair comb
with a handle of gold like teeth
to comb away this year's gray temples
and comb away the black strands of the past
and then I would have been able to get a good look at my own hair, and I would have been able to get a good look at my own hair.
The comb is an arch bridge and the hair is water
How many bridges have been broken by the flowing water?
How much water has passed under the bridges?
Comb away the gray of today
Comb back to the bright of yesteryear
Oh, give me the golden hair comb of the immortals
And I'll give you the silver earrings
Soup in the delicate little earlobes
To hold the precious dimple
Like a pair of guards against evil
To hold the light smile on your lips
And the beautiful view on your brow
And the beautiful view on your face
The comb is an arch bridge, the hair is water
How many bridges have been washed away by the water? The view from under your brow
No spies of time
To lay down the fine crow's feet
Or the hidden furrow on your forehead
To steal your charm from you
Oh, I'll give you a silver earring
Tall towers to the sea
Tall towers to the sea, and windows to the west
The dusk comes in colorful and mysterious
When the sun goes down, the sun goes down, and the sun goes down, and the sun goes down. It ebbs and flows like the waves of a strait
Wave after wave comes to shake my old age
What's left of a lifetime of uncertainty
Except for this lone lamp at the window
To keep watch over this long night with me
No matter what I write, diary, letters, or poems
It's always with him, the closest of all
The first reader, ****, is the first to discuss with him.
The late night, the chaotic world
More than any confidant, or even family
I can silently share my worries
One day my gray hairs won't be in the lamplight
What's left of a lifetime of uncertainty
Except to leave the setting sun on a strait
Except to leave a lighthouse to the winds and waves
Except to leave a century that can't be returned
What's left of a life that can't be returned
What's left of a life that can't be returned?
What else is left behind but a century that can't be turned back
to a history that can't be written
What else is left behind but a lifetime of uncertainty?
As for this lone lamp, the witness of loneliness
Dear readers, I leave it to you
The sound of the wind
You ask me what is the best music to listen to
Of course, it is the silence, and I say, the infinite silence
The supreme blessing to the ear is the transparency of the hearing field
When the noise is all settled
Next, it is the sound of the wind, the sound of the wind, the sound of the wind, the sound of the wind, the sound of the wind, the sound of the wind.
And the wind, blowing unaccountably from the ends of the world, especially at sunset
lifts the whole strait
The high pitch of the whistling is emphasized again and again
A monotonous, fast tone, invincible
A huge, majestic atmosphere comes in
It's the creation exhaling, the gods breathing
Drumming my lungs like a kite.
The lungs are fluttering like a kite about to leap
It's exciting to think that a wave of energy
is coming to sweep away the dullness
There must be a hidden message from the heavens that seems to tell
A story older than mankind
When legends and religions have not yet begun
Heaven and earth are divided, and the yin and the yang are dumb
The Great Wild Place is a place where the world is divided, and the sky and the moon are not yet the same.
The soughing monotone
With an emphatic high pitch, it wailed day and night
To urge the birth of a planet in paroxysm
That primitive guttural, lip, and tooth sounds
What kind of destiny was the early warning
The century was ending and the prophet didn't come
The after-knowledge was noisy, but the sky didn't open up
How can I judge with the ears of the mortal like me?
But the waves have clearly understood
Why else would they all fly
but not soar, only to lash
the lighthouse and the embankment
almost submerged
even my high window facing the sea
would not have been spared, had I not pushed my chair in time to close the window
and the thin manuscript of my poem would have drifted away with the wind.
In the windy night
In the windy night
There's a window
not yet closed
Whose ears
are not yet closed
In the windy night
There's a star
not yet resting
Whose eyes
are not yet closed
And I'm not sure if I can see it.
Not yet at rest
On a windy night
There is a flag
Not yet put away
Whose soul is it
Not yet put away
I look to the heavens
Blowing out the star
Putting away the flag
Closing the window
But still finding <
There's an ear
That hasn't been closed
Whose window
Can't be closed on a windy night
There's an eye
That hasn't been at rest
Whose star
Can't be rested on a windy night
And there's a soul
That has a face
That can't be rested on.
Not yet put away
Whose flag
In the windy night
Cannot be put away
The beautiful and fickle witch, the moon
Translates, her specialty
Translates the world away
Translates the sun's mother's metal into quicksilver
Translates fire into ice
Translates fire into ice.
Translated the sun's metal into quicksilver
Translated the fire into ice
And with a minty flavor
And those who have tasted it say
That the translation is utterly unreliable
But more mysterious and beautiful than the original
Snow is another beautiful translator
That intends to make the world wrong
Or right, says the poet
Because the original was originally written to be so
That it was not meant for the world.
It is only because the original text is so full of mistakes
that whenever the Snow Nuns
come down on the wind in their six-petaled parachutes
the world becomes overnight
more complete than a revolution
so white
and if a new snow falls, and a full moon is in the sky
there is a flat shadow below
and on the top of it there are shadows
that are not the same as those on the other side.
And you come to me with a smile
Between the moon and the snow
You are the third color
I wonder how the moon and the reflecting snow
can be translated
into your true color
- which is excellent enough
for me.
How can you combine your original color
- which is excellent enough
- into an even better color?
Gu Cheng
"Farewell" (In the spring, I wave my handkerchief gently)
In the spring,
I wave my handkerchief gently,
will it take me far away,
or will it return immediately?
No, nothing,
Nothing because,
Like the falling flowers in the water,
Like the dew on the flowers ......
Only the shadows know,
Only the winds know,
Only the colorful butterflies startled by the sighs,
Only the colorful butterflies startled by the sighs,
Only the colorful butterflies startled by the sighs.
Still fluttering in the flowers of the heart ......
Far and Near
You,
will look at me for a while,
will look at the clouds for a while.
I think,
You're far away when you look at me,
You're close when you look at the clouds.
The Generation
The night gave me black eyes
But I use them to look for light
The Alley
The alley
is curved and long
There is no door
There is no window
I took an old key
and knocked on a thick wall
The Mountain Shadow
The Mountain Shadow
The Alley
The Mountain Shadow
The Mountain Shadow
The Mountain Shadow
The Mountain Shadow
In the shadow of the mountain
A warrior of ancient times
Holds his steed
The road disappears around him
He turns into bas-relief
Into a tangle of stories
Today like a demon
Tomorrow like an angel
The Faintest Hope
Me and countless
Can't hatch.
pebbles that can't hatch
base together
blue rivers and streams crawl in
and swallow us up
and quietly spit us out
nothing else
only wishing that the grass would lengthen
its shadows
Rain Walk
clouds, gray and grey
can no longer be Can't be washed clean
We opened our umbrellas
So we blackened the sky
In the slowly drifting night
There were two pairs of twin stars
There seemed to be no fixing of the orbit
But just distant and near ......
The Bubbles
Two free blisters
Rising from the depths of the dreaming sea ......
The hazy silver mist
Disperses in the breeze
I am like a child
Pulling tightly on the blurring you
In a vain attempt to bring the blisters
Back to the land of reality
Feelings
The sky is gray
The road is gray
The building is gray
The rain is gray
In a dead gray
Walked two children
One bright red
One light green
The Arc
Birds in a brisk wind
Swiftly turning
The teenager went to pick up
A penny
The grapevines were full of Fantasy
Stretching tentacles
The waves' backs shrugged as they flinched
The Evasion
Through solemn rocks
I
Walked to the shore
"Go ahead
I know the world's languages"
The sea laughed
And showed me See
Birds that swim
Fish that fly
Sand that sings
And not a word is said to that eternal questioning
The Case
Blackness
Like swarm after swarm of
Masked men
Sneaking closer
Then walking away
I lost the dream
Only the smallest penny left in my pocket
"I've been robbed,"
I said to the sun
The sun went after the night
And was chased by another group of night
In the setting light
In the setting light
You purse your mouth tightly: <
"There's only a quarter of an hour left."
That is to say, now for the tragedy.
"Ten years, a hundred years!"
"A thousand miles, a million miles!"
Suddenly you smile mischievously,
revealing your true age.
"I forgot a word."
"Well, definitely forgot one."
We never figured it out,
and the sun has quietly rested.