"Untitled."
In the plains of a father's imagination,
insistent cries of children strike high peaks in the end.
Don't panic.
Tracing thoughts of certain trees, I stutter into song.
Sorrow, from far away, is a kind of power.
I use it to saw tables.
Someone sets out for the sake of love,
and a palace, following storms, sails through many dynasties.
Beyond life with home furnishings,
fleas beat a huge drum.
Taoists practice their ascent into heaven,
youth goes deep into back alleys,
weeping over the logic of night.
I attain rest.
无题
在父亲平坦的想象中
孩子们固执地叫喊 终于创造了高山
不要惊慌
我沿着某些树的想法从口吃转向歌唱
来自远方的悲伤是一种权利
不用它锯桌子
有人为了爱情出发 而一座宫殿追随风暴
驶过很多王朝 带家具的生活以外
跳蚤雷动大鼓 道士们练习升天
青春深入小巷 为夜的逻辑而哭
我得到了休息