Untitled.
Drenched in fog.
Ideas.
A flock of birds shaken off by a cold current.
You have to endure your age.
Keeping watch over the field, listening to intricate paths
and splendid music.
Perhaps you'd be ignored by the orchestra.
Oh desolation.
No.
Simple but not excessive eulogy.
The kiss on the water's surface between sky and earth.
无题
被雾打湿
念头像被寒流抖落的鸟群
你必忍受年龄守望田野
请听伟大音乐中迂回的小径
而你是否会被演奏所忽略
荒芜啊
不简单而并不多余
那赞美 那天空与大地 在水面之吻
A deep breath.
Deeper.
Clutch at the roots of the scholar tree,
debating with the north wind.
Summer is here.
The tree crown is an underground informer.
The murmur is a red sleep, stung by swarms of bees.
No, it is a storm.
One by one, the readers climbed to the shore.
使命
牧师在祷告中迷路
一扇通风窗开向另一个时代
逃亡者在翻墙
气喘吁吁的词引发作者的心脏病
深呼吸更深些
抓住和北风辩论的槐树的根
夏天到来了
树冠是地下告密者
低语是被蜂群蛰伤的红色睡眠
不 一场风暴
读者们纷纷爬上岸