Snow falls on the land of China,
Cold is blocking China ah ......
The wind,
Like an old woman who is too sad
Follows closely
To reach out the claws of the cold fingers
Tugging at the lapels of the pedestrians,
With a ramble as old as your land
That rambles on for a moment ......
That emerges from the forests,
Driving a wagon
Your Chinese farmer,
Wearing a leather cap,
Braving the snow. the snow
Where are they going?
To tell you the truth
I am also a descendant of farmers -
Because of your
wrinkled faces etched with the wrinkles of epileptic bitterness
I can know so y
the
years
of the people who live on the steppes. of hardship.
And I
was no happier than you
-lying on the river of time
the waves of suffering
have several times engulfed me and swept me back up again--
Wandering and imprisonment
have lost the most precious days of my youth,
and my life
is as haggard as yours
Oh.
Snow is falling on the land of China,
The cold is blocking China,......
Along the river of the snowy night,
A small oil lamp moves slowly,
The light is reflected in the tattered boat,
with its head hanging down
Who is sitting in the boat? Who sits there?
--Ah, you
hairless little woman,
is it not
that your home
-the nest of happiness and warmth
has been burned down by a violent enemy
that is, by a violent enemy
that is, by an enemy of the people? >
Burned down?
Is it not true that
on such a night as this,
protected from men,
in the horror of death
you have been subjected to the play of the enemy's bayonet.7
Ah, on such a cold night as this one
numerous
our aged mothers
like the foreigner, have been destroyed. people
not knowing what journey tomorrow's wheels
will roll on?
--And
the roads in China
are so rough,
so muddy.
Snow falls on the land of China:
The cold is blocking China. ......
The regions gnawed by the beacons,
numerous, the settlers of the land
lost their domestic animals
lost the fields they had made fertile. fields
crowded in the filthy alleys of
life's despair;
hungry earth
reaching out to the shadowy heavens
stretching out begging
trembling arms.
China's pain and disaster
is as vast and long as this snowy night!
Snow is falling on China's land,
Cold is blocking China ah ......
China,
My feeble verses written on a lightless night
Can I give you some warmth?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The North
The poet of the Kerchin steppe
said to me. p>"The North is sad."
Nice,
the North is sad.
The
desert winds blowing from beyond the walls,
have swept away
the green of life in the north
with the light of the day,
-a dull gray-yellow,
masked with a layer of unraveling sandy fog;
The whistling of the sky,
Bringing terror,
Madly
Sweeping over the earth
Desert wilderness
Frozen in the October wind;
The villages,
The old towns,
The mountain slopes,
The riverbanks,
The crumbling ruins,
And the desert mounds. Mounds,
all covered with earth-colored melancholy ......
Lonely pedestrians,
bending forward
covering their cheeks with their hands,
in the wind and sand
breathing in pain,
step by step
struggling to Onward ......
A few donkeys
-The beasts with sad eyes
And weary ears,
Laden with the land's
Aggrieved weight,
Their weary feet,
slowly trod the
long and lonely roads of the North ......
those creeks have long since dried up
the bottoms of the rivers have been painted with carts,
and the land and the people of the North
are thirsting for
O that flowing spring that nourishes life!
The dead forests
and the low houses,
sparsely
darkly
dispersed
under the gray canopy;
in the sky,
without the sun in sight,
only the geese in great flocks
frighteningly
striking their black wings
Calling out their uneasiness and misery,
Fleeing from this desolate region,
Fleeing to the
Green-shaded south ......
The north is sad;
And the ten thousand miles of the Yellow River
rages with turbid waves,
pouring disaster and misfortune on the vast north
;
and the frosts of ages,
etching
the vast north's
poverty and hunger ah.
And I
-the traveler from the South,
love the sad North.
The sands of the wind
and the coldness of the bones
have never made me curse;
I love this sad country,
and the boundless desert
has aroused my reverence:
-I have seen
our ancestors
and I have seen
Our ancestors
lead the flock,
attacking the reed flute,
immersed in the dusk of the desert ......
The
ancient
loose loam on which we are treading
buried with the bones of our ancestors,
--the desert is a place of great reverence for us.
The land they cleared,
For thousands of years
They fought the nature that struck them,
They defended the land,
They were never once humiliated,
They died.
Bequeathing us the land-
I love this sad land,
its vast and barren soil,
bringing us simple words
and broad gestures,
I believe: these words and gestures
and never perish;
I love this sad land
O ancient land,
which has nourished
that which for my love is
The hardest
and the oldest race in the world.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The winter pools and marshes
For W. I.
The winter pools and marshes,
Lonely as an old man's heart-
The heart that has experienced the bitterness of the world;
The marsh in winter,
Dry as an old man's eye-
The eye that has been worn out by toil and suffering;
The marsh in winter,
Barren as an old man's hair-
Sparse and gray as frosty grass
The marsh in winter,
Dark as a sad old man-
< p>Old man hunched under a gloomy canopy.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Handcart
In the territory where the Yellow River flows
At the bottom of countless dried-up rivers <
The handcart
With its only wheel
Makes a shrill sound that spasms the gloomy vault of heaven
Buds through the cold and the silence
From this foothill
To that foothill
Throughout
The woe of the people of the North
On the days of the ice and the snow
On the days when poor hamlet to hamlet
wheelbarrows
with individual wheels
deep ruts etched in the gray and yellow earth
across the expanse and the desert
from this road
to that
intertwine
with the sorrows of the people of the North Country
------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Times
I stood under a low roof
and gazed out at the savage hillocks
and the high, empty
For a long, long time, like a miracle in my heart,
I saw a shining thing
That inspired my heart like the sun,
With a heavy boom in the sky,
With a stormy roar,
Rumbling and rolling... ...
I yearn and cheer to it! '
When I hear from the cloudy side of the snowy mountains
The rolling of the great wheels on the uneven road
Like grooms on their way to weddings
-Even though I know that what it brings me
It is not a festive revelry
And I know that it is not a festive revelry
That it is a festive revelry
That it is a festive revelry. festive revelry
and some vaudeville laughter
but a sight more cruel than a thousand slaughterhouses,
and still I run to it
with as much zeal as a life can muster.
I am not weak - I am not complacent,
I am not one whom I can comfort or deceive myself
I am not content with that which the world has ever given me
- neither honor, nor Shame
and whether it be gloomy stares and night-like hatred
and the happiness with which men's eyes shine
I feel empty where you do not know
The world that gave me a life
I am forever stretching out both arms
I ask to climb the mountains
I ask to cross the sea
I will meet higher praises, greater slanders
More insoluble grievances, and more fatal blows--
All for the sake of the deep chasm of time I want to rise from ......
No more personal suffering will be be greater than mine-
I was faithful to the times, devoted to the times, and I was silent
unwillingly, like a captured prisoner
silent before being escorted to the penal colony
I was silent in order that there were no words loud enough
Like the early summer's Thunder rolls across the cloudy sky
Shuffling my passion in my raging cry
Dedicated to that which excites me so much and surprises me so much
I love it more than anything I've ever loved
For it to come I would deliver my life
Delivered to it from my inward body up to my soul
I look so humble in front of it
Even want to lie on my back on the ground
Let its feet tread over my chest like a road
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------
Dayan River - my nanny
Dayan River, is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born,
She was a child bride,
Dayan River, is my nanny.
I am the son of a landowner;
and I grew up on the milk of the Dayan River
Son of the Dayan River .
Dayan River raised her family by raising me,
and I, who was raised on your milk,
O Dayan River, my nanny.
Dayan River, today I see the snow reminds me of you:
Your grass-covered grave under the snow,
The dead waffle on the gable end of your closed home,
Your square foot of garden land that has been seized,
The moss-covered stone chairs at your door,
Dayan River, today I see the snow reminds me of you.
Dayan River, today I see the snow reminds me of you. of you.
You took me in your arms and touched me with your big, thick palms;
After you built the fire,
after you patted the charcoal dust from your apron,
after you tasted the rice cooked,
after you put the dark bowl of sauce on the dark table,
after you mended your sons' clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
after you mended your son's clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
after you mended your son's clothes torn by the thorns of the hillside,
and after you had made the snow, you took me into your arms and touched me with your big palms.
After you wrapped the hands of your children cut by the woodchipper,
After you pinched the lice from your husbands' shirts, one by one,
After you picked up the first egg of the day,
You took me in your arms with your big, thick palms and caressed me.
I am the son of a landowner,
After I have eaten all the milk of your great weir,
I am led back to my own home by the parents who bore me.
Ah, River Weir, why do you cry?
I have become a new guest in the house of my parents!
I touched the red lacquered furniture,
I touched the gold patterns on my parents' bed,
I stared at the plaque on the gable top that I didn't recognize as "Tianlunshulue,"
I touched the silk and shell buttons on my new clothes,
I looked at the unfamiliar buttons on my mother's arms,
I looked at the silk and shell buttons on my new dress,
I looked at the silk and shell buttons on my mother's arms,
I looked at the silk and shell buttons on my new dress. I looked at my unknown sister in my mother's arms,
I sat on a painted kangstool with a fire bowl,
I ate rice that had been polished three times,
but I was so coy! For I
was a new guest in the house of my parents who had given me birth.
The River Weir, for the sake of life,
After she had run out of her lotion,
she began to labor with the arms that had held me in them;
with a smile she washed our clothes,
with a smile she carried the basket of vegetables to the frozen pond at the edge of the village,
with a smile she chopped turnips with the ice chips,
with a smile she cut the radishes,
with a smile she cut the turnips with the ice chips,
with a smile she cut the turnips with the ice chips.
She smiled and dug her hands into the wheat lees that the pigs ate,
She smiled and fanned the fire of the stewing stove,
She smiled and carried the dustpan to the square,
Sunning the soybeans and the wheat,
Daianhe, for the sake of life,
After she had run out of her milk,
She carried my arms over her head. And labored.
Da Yan He, who loved her breast child,
was busy slicing the winter rice candy for him at the annual festival,
used to walk quietly to her house at the edge of the village for him,
came to her and called her "mother" for him,
Da Yan He, who painted him in big red and green colors,
drew him a picture of her, and said "Mom" to him.
Da Yan He, who would praise her breast to her neighbors;
Da Yan He had a dream she could not tell:
In the dream, she ate her breast's wedding wine,
sat on a brilliantly colored hall,
and her dainty daughter-in-law called her "Mom" affectionately,
and she was so happy that she had to go to her house.
............
Dayan, who loved her breast, loved her dearly!
Dayan, who died before she woke up from her dream.
When she died, her breast was not beside her,
When she died, her husband, who usually scolded her, wept for her,
Five sons, each of them wept sadly,
When she died, she softly called out her breast's name,
Dayanhe, who had died,
Died,
Died, when she died, her breast was not beside her.
When she died, she died, she was not beside her.
When she died, she died, she died, she was not beside her.
The Great Weir, with tears, has gone!
With forty years of human life,
With the misery of countless slaves,
With a four-dollar coffin and a few bundles of straw,
With a few feet of ground to bury the coffin in,
With a handful of paper money in the dust,
Dayanhe, she went away with tears in her eyes.
This is what Oryan doesn't know:
Her drunken husband is dead,
The eldest son is a bandit,
The second died in the smoke of artillery fire,
The third, the fourth, and the fifth
And me, I am writing the spell that is given to this unjust world.
When I returned to my native land after a long drift,
in the hillsides, in the fields,
brothers met in a more intimate way than they had been six or seven years before!
This, this is for you, the quietly sleeping Dayan River
Unknown ah!
Today your breast is in prison, Da Yan He,
writing a hymn to you,
to your purple soul under the yellow soil,
to the straight outstretched hand with which you embraced me,
to the lips on which you kissed me,
to the tender face of your mud blackness,
to your breasts on which you have raised me,
to the breasts of the river,
which are more intimate than seven years ago,
this is for you, sleeping quietly,
not knowing it!
To your sons, my brothers,
To everything on earth,
My weir-like nannies and their sons,
To the weir who loves me as her own son.
Dayan River, I grew up on your milk
your son
I honor you
and love you!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notice of the Dawn
For my prayers
O Poet, rise up
And tell them
that what they are waiting for is coming
that I have come in the dew
have come by the light of the last star
I have come from the east
from the raging sea
I will bring light to the world
and warmth to mankind
by thee, O poet. p>By the mouths of your righteous people
Please bring my message
Notify mankind whose eyes are burned with longing
And distant cities and villages steeped in misery
Ask them to come and welcome me
Herald of the day, bearer of the light
Open all the windows to welcome
Open all the doors to Welcome
Sound your sirens to welcome
Blow your horns to welcome
Let the scavengers come to clean the streets
Let the porters come to remove the garbage
Let the laborers walk the streets with a wide stride
Let the vehicles flow through the squares in a brilliant procession
Let the villages wake up from the damp fog as well
Open their hedges to welcome me
Please ask the village women to open their chicken coops
Please ask the peasants to bring their oxen from the barn
Lend your warm mouths to inform them
that I have come from the other side of the mountain, from the other side of the forest
Please ask them to clean up those sunny fields
and those ever-filtering patios
.Please open the windows that are papered with flowers
Please open the doors that have spring scrolls on them
Please wake up the attentive women
And the snoring men
Please wake up the young lovers too
And the sleepy maidens
Please wake up the sleepy mother
And the babies beside him
Please Wake up everyone
even the sick and those in labor
even the aged
those groaning in their beds
even the wounded in wars of justice
and the refugees displaced by the fall of their homelands
Please wake up all the unfortunate
I'll give them solace together
I'll give them comfort
Please wake up everyone who loves to live. Wake up all those who love life
Workers, craftsmen, and painters
Wake up the singers with their songs
With the voices of the grass and the dew
Wake up the dancers with their dances
With their morning coats of mist
Wake up those who are healthy and beautiful
And say that I am coming soon to knock at the doors of their windows
That I will be here soon to help them to find peace. windows and doors
Please be faithful to the poet of time
Bring tidings of comfort to mankind
Please ask them to prepare a welcome, please ask all to prepare a welcome
I will come when the rooster crows for the last time
Please ask them to gaze into the heavens with pious eyes
I will give the most gracious light to all who look to me
Tell them while the night is almost over
that what they are waiting for is coming
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To the Sunshine
Morning, I awoke from my sleep,
and rejoiced at the sight of thy light;
-though last night I was still sleepy,
and haunted by innumerable nightmares.
Your fresh, gentle, bright light,
shone on my long unopened window,
putting the paper of the window the color of pale yellow like pollen,
nestling it in the light blue and neat latticework of shadows,
and, filled with thankfulness, I arose from my bed,
opened the door of the window, which had been shut for the winter,
and let you bring the bright tablecloth of all gold silk,
and spread it on my table by the window.
So, to my surprise, I saw you:
So real that there was no room for doubt,
You stood on the top of the opposite mountain,
and smiled so brightly.
I opened my eyes hard to see you,
and longed to capture your image,
how intense, how trance-like, how solemn!
Your light stings my pupils.
O Sun, thou immortal philosopher,
Thou bringest joy to the earth,
Even the most unfortunate sees thee,
and feels thy comfort in his heart.
Thou art the forge of time,
The gilders of the good life;
Thou castest the days into countless wheels of gold,
Thou flewest over the ancient wilderness ......
If it were not for thee, O sun,
All life would lie prostrate in the gloom,
Even with wings, it would only fly like a bat
in the eternal night.
I love you as men love their mothers,
You feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat--
To make me live passionately and agonize for ideals,
Until my life is taken away by death.
After the long, lonely winter,
Today I want to go up to the mountain tops,
Dismiss my clothes, naked,
Bathe my soul in your light ......
------------------------ --------------------------------------------------------
Fossilized fish
How lively the movements,
How energetic,
Leaping in the waves,
Floating in the sea;
Unluckily, a volcano erupted
or maybe it was an earthquake,
and you lost your freedom,
and were sorted into the dust;
After how many hundreds of millions of years,
geological prospectors,
discovered you in a layer of rock,
and you still came to life.
But you are silent,
Not even a sigh,
Scales and fins intact,
But you cannot move;
You are absolutely still,
Reacting to nothing,
Seeing nothing of the sky or the water,
And hearing nothing of the waves.
Gazing at a piece of fossilized rock,
And the fool has learned a lesson:
Away from motion,
There is no life.
To live is to struggle,
In struggle to advance,
Even in death,
Energy must be utilized cleanly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tiger shell
Beautiful tiger spots
Shine on you
What is it that What polished you like this
What polished you like this
Fineer than the finest china
Harder than white gems
Slippery as a goose egg oval
Not a pinprick scratch to be found
How many years at the bottom of the sea of despair
Rolling on ten thousand hectares of waves
All covered with Armor of jade ___
Protecting the most vulnerable of lives
If not for the chance wave that swept me onto the beach
I never thought I'd see such beautiful sunshine
----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
Mutually Discovered
--Title "Changlin Diamond"
The Treasure of Things
The Soul of People
<I don't know how many billions of years
Buried deep in the ground
Existence is the same as non-existence,
Even hope is stifled
A girl turns the earth deep
Suddenly she sees it jump out
The girl's eye and the diamond
flashed at the same time
like flipping a switch
in a split second
the two kinds of light shone on each other
marveling at each other's beauty
glowing diamond
like a patch of yellowish sunlight
illuminating the earth of the motherland
teasuring the There are countless treasures under the ground
Bright diamond
No substance is harder than it
The girl contributes it to the country
Used to knock on the door of industry
The Changling brigade gets the diamond
Diamonds come to the earth with glory
And even more glorious than diamonds
is the girl's The idea of loving the motherland.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lost years
Unlike a lost bundle
can be found at the lost and found back,
Lost Years
or even know where they were lost-
there are those that disappeared piecemeal,.
Some are lost for ten or twenty years,
some are lost in noisy cities,
some are lost in distant wildernesses,
some are lost in crowded stations,
some are lost under cold, empty lamps;
lost is not like a piece of paper that can be picked up
but rather more like a bowl of water thrown to the
Time is a flowing liquid -
It cannot be salvaged with a sieve or a net;
Time cannot be solid,
If only it were fossilized,
even in tens of thousands of years it could be be found in rock formations.i
Time is also like a gas,
like smoke from the head of a speeding train!
Lost years are like a friend,
Broken off, enduring some suffering,
Suddenly the news comes; that he
has long since departed from this earth
--------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------
Bonsai
Seem to be relics of antiquity
The plants here have become minerals
The main trunks are of bronze, the boughs of iron wire
Even the leaves are the color of copper and green
In the antique courtyard
Winter is not cold in winter and heat in summer
With shelves of rosewood and mahogany
The more prominent their status
In fact, they are the products of misfortune
Long ago, they lost their original color
In all kinds of pots
Suffered from suppression and aggravation
Every process of growth
Has had The twisting of wires and the torture of knives and scissors
are at the mercy of others, unable to stretch freely
partly developed, partly shriveled
by an imbalance
typical of the crippled,
like a rickety old man
boasting of a grotesque deformity
some have protruded from their bellies
some show tuberous roots
and others have been forced out of their bellies.
Some have exposed their tuberous roots
leaving behind a few thin, curved branches
Sesame-sized leaves that indicate youth
like a group of battle-hardened, wounded soldiers
supporting a crippled life
But all the trees and flowers
have to have their own heaven and earth
Roots absorb nutrients from the soil
Branches and leaves bear the rain and sunlight
Branches and leaves bear the rain and sunlight
Free to stretch and develop normally
Moody under the sky
Accepting nature's caresses
Exuding their own fragrance
Nowadays, however, everything is turned upside down
The young ones become old, and the old ones become young
In order to satisfy the curiosity of the human being
To boast of a flower breeder's skill
The soft can be twisted around the finger
The grass has no words and the axe is applied
Maybe it's a kind of art
But it's written with a sneer at freedom
-------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
For the female sculptor, Deti Zhang
From your fingers comes hair
like the ebb and flow of a wave
and on your forehead, the hardship of the years
From your fingers comes eyes
with sad eyes
with lips pursed tight
And from your fingers, you can see that your eyes have been pursed tightly
and that you have been pursed tightly
and that they have been pursed tightly
and that they have been pursed tightly.
From your fingers flowed a me
With my breath
With my body heat
And I was silent
Perhaps it was unfortunate
I prolonged my life because of you
----------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------
I love this land
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This storm-battered land,
This ever-raging river of our sorrows,
This enraged wind that blows without end,
and the unmistakably gentle dawn from the forest ......
-and then I died,
and even my feathers rotted inside the land.
Why do I often have tears in my eyes?
Because I love the land so much ......
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
The sun
From the tombs of ancient times
From the dark ages
From yonder side of the stream of human death
Shocking the sleeping mountains
If the wheel of fire soars above the dunes
The sun rolls toward me ......
It breathes life with a light that is hard to hide
Makes the tall trees dance to it
Makes the rivers run to it with wild songs
When it comes, I hear
The pupae of the winter hibernation spinning underground
The crowds speak aloud in the open fields
The cities call to it from afar
With electricity and steel
And so my heart and chest
were torn open by the hand of flame
A stale soul
was left on the banks of the river
I have the certainty of human regeneration
----------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
The Coal Conversation
--A-Y. R
Where do you live?
I live in the mountains of ten thousand years
I live in the rocks of ten thousand years
Your age--
My age is greater than that of the mountains
More than that of the rocks
From whence have you been silent?
From the time when dinosaurs ruled the forests
From the time when the earth's crust first shook
Are you already dead in your deep resentment?
Dead? No, no, I am alive-
Give me fire, give me fire!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beggars
In the North
Beggars wander the banks of the Yellow River
Wandering on both sides of the railroad tracks
In the North
Beggars cry out in the most tiresome voices
Crying out in pain
Saying that they come from the disaster area
From the war zone
Starvation is horrible
It causes the old to lose their benevolence
The young to learn to hate
In the North
The beggar stares at you with stubborn eyes
Watching you eat any food
And the way you pick your teeth with your fingernails
In the North
The beggar stretches out his hand that never retracts
Ebony hands
Asked for a copper
To anyone
Even the soldier who can't spare a copper
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bridge
When land is divided from land by water
When road and road were cut off by water,
Wise men stood at the water's edge:
And thus arose the bridge.
Mankind, who are suffering from trekking,
should be thankful for bridges.
The bridge is the link between land and land;
The bridge is the love between river and road;
The bridge is the stage where ships and vehicles nod their heads in salute;
The bridge is the place where the boat rider and the walker wave goodbye.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Trees
Tree by tree, tree by tree
Lonely and apart from each other
The wind and the air
Tell of their distance
But underneath the earth
Their roots grow
In unseen depths
They tangle their roots
They tangle their roots
They tangle their roots
They tangle their roots
They tangle their roots