These are unusual times. These poets are tale-tellers of their world. Their poems are for real people.

POEM OF THE DAY 每日一首

LESSER HEAT*

  • By Yang Zi

  • Under northern trees, there is still the trace of a cool breeze.
  • An eagle spreads its wings and circles.
  • The haystacks are all gone, leaving a few sparrows behind.
  • The garlic patch is brimming with little white flowers.

  • In the straw cage, crickets are chirping loud and bright.
  • A yellow dog lies at the doorway, tongue flexed, panting
  • The ox chews its cud, sparrows occasionally heard chirping in the fruit trees.
  • Magpies fly over the courtyard wall. The clouds seem to stir without moving.

  • Sitting on a step under the eaves in my small family courtyard,
  • I feel, at last, level like a vat of water, an indescribable feeling—
  • a cup of Pu'er tea, a bowl of noodles, a savory dish,
  • the scorching midday sun, a few simple words exchanged.

  • Note:
  • The lunar calendar divides a year into 24 climatological intervals; each interval is 15 days—from new moon to full moon or full moon to new moon. The interval of Lesser Heat is the eleventh interval of the year, starting on the new moon after Summer Solstice.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/0Ekbf9oGd9_Kud8oUhpedg


小 暑

  • 杨 梓

  • 北方的树下还有一丝丝凉风
  • 老鹰平展双翼,盘旋高空
  • 地里已无麦垛,几只鸟雀飞来飞去
  • 一畦韭菜开满白色的小花

  • 麦秆笼里的蝈蝈,鸣叫更加响亮
  • 一只黄狗趴在门口,伸出全部的舌头
  • 牛在反刍,果树上的麻雀偶尔叽喳几声
  • 喜鹊飞过院墙,云朵似动非动

  • 在老家小院,坐在房檐下的台阶上
  • 我第一次感到一缸水的平静,却难以言说
  • 一杯砖茶,一碗长面,一碟小菜
  • 一个炎热的正午,几句简单的对话



YESTERDAYS' POEM OF THE DAY 昨日的 每日一首

GOOD NIGHT, YOUNG MAN

  • By Ding Peng

  • The glittering city whispers to you through the cell phone.
  • You can't sleep, you're an electrical conductor.
  • As your fingertips swipe across the screen
  • for second-hand truths, a current makes tiny waves.
  • Your eyelashes open and close, they look like the bristles on a spring millet.
  • Yes, if you die in a game, you will be resurrected.
  • Good night, young man. The voltage is stable tonight.
  • Go back to bed, but recharge your phone.
  • The camera fixes its gaze on you as you close your eyelids.
  • When your heart beats on the earth, you’ll fly
  • through a nebula to reach the edge of the universe.
  • You will come to stand in front of her just like before,
  • and kiss her, and share your sorrows.
  • Good night, young man, see you on the screen tomorrow, when
  • Truman Burbank will be fleeing his beloved hometown,
  • and breaking free is the most difficult barrier.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/nFkuptl8XO2hxBSzvtM1iA


晚安,少年

  • 作者:丁鹏


  • 城市之光,透过手机向你低语
  • 你失眠,因为你是一截导体
  • 电流伴随你的指尖溅起细浪
  • 指尖滑动,刷屏的二手真相
  • 眨动睫毛,像一棵春天的稗草
  • 像你在游戏中死去,又复活
  • 晚安,少年。夜的电压平稳
  • 躺回床上,手机放到座充上
  • 摄像头在凝视你,你阖上眼睑
  • 当心跳撞击地球,你飞起来
  • 穿过星云,抵达宇宙的边缘
  • 站到她的面前,像过去一样
  • 你亲吻她,和她分享你的悲伤
  • 晚安,少年。明天的屏幕里
  • 楚门会逃出他所热爱的城市
  • 你也会打通最难的一道关卡




AFTER MID-AUTUMN, SITTING ALONE ON A BARREN HILL

  • Dong Li

  • Old Heaven has a long, drawn-out face,
  • someone must owe him 800,000 in cash plus interest.
  • The hills are overflowing with little wild daisies,
  • but not a single one of them knows
  • why the sun flowers were all executed in autumn.
  • Midway in the sky, sparrow hawks screech.
  • Are they looking for mates
  • or hunting for food?
  • I sit on the hilltop, alone,
  • not thinking about my tumbledown village.
  • The farmers are harvesting at foothill,
  • looking neither happy or sad.
  • Singing comes from a distance; it’s the sound of a marriage,
  • the same music as a funeral,
  • as if alluding to a maxim:
  • There's nothing new under the sun.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/n_J_HE-LJiPoX19PWA0zLQ


中秋后,荒山独坐

  • 东篱

  • 老天把脸拉拉到
  • 谁欠他八百吊的长度
  • 漫山的小野菊不明白
  • 为什么向日葵
  • 会被秋决
  • 半空中的鹞子鸣叫着
  • 是找寻配偶
  • 还是觅猎食物?
  • 我独坐山顶
  • 不是思忖破败的乡村
  • 山脚下的农民在收获
  • 不喜也不悲
  • 远处婚庆的歌声
  • 与白事并无二致
  • 仿佛一句箴言
  • 亘古如斯



RUSTED LOVE

  • By Gu Baokai

  • A ceaseless drizzle falls on winter's wharf,
  • and falls on life's journeys, too.
  • I tried to call out your name but swallowed it.
  • I dare not touch those things that taper to a pointed end,
  • the heads of weed, the bristles of barley, a flimsy light.
  • I see a tree that summons a lifetime of strength just to
  • heal its wounds.
  • That day the earth was split asunder by a thunderstorm,
  • and things hidden in the dark suddenly became clear.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/5wneVY40LDVfMnxHJqUDOg


爱情是一件生锈的铁器

  • 顾宝凯


  • 一场绵密的细雨下在冬天的码头
  • 也下在一生的旅途中
  • 我尝试叫出你的名字又咽了回去
  • 我不敢去触碰过于尖锐的事物
  • 草尖,麦芒,微弱的光
  • 我看见一棵树用尽一生的力气
  • 修复自己的伤口
  • 那天的雷雨,劈开了大地
  • 隐藏在黑暗中的事物那么清晰




LET ME DISAPPEAR

  • Hai Nan

  • Let me disappear, like how it happens in storybooks,
  • reading, skimming pages, in forgetfulness
  • granted a gloomy night. I'm tired.
  • The inland route will lead me onshore to my
  • next life. I savor the autumn scenery slowly rising over the horizon.
  • Only after trekking far in the mud, I see
  • those women wearing silver ornaments across their chests.
  • Among them, some have already grown old.
  • The younger ones haven’t known the art of harvesting wheat.
  • Drawers, earlobes, hidden weapons, a downpour of rain.
  • The divide between men and women over generations
  • led to territories separated by earth and water.
  • The cooling autumn reminds me of porcelain
  • and the cold virgin forests.
  • I want to sob in your arms.
  • A hard autumn wind blows…

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/bVTZ5h7JxDvOGUSh8LnIGw


我愿意就此隐形

  • 海男

  • 我愿意,就此隐形,像那些书中的故事
  • 只在阅读、翻拂、忘却中
  • 获得幽暗的一夜。我累了
  • 那些从内陆上岸的路, 通往我的
  • 来世。我咀嚼着这渐渐上升中的秋色
  • 泥洼中我走了很远,才看到了
  • 胸前佩带银器的妇女生活
  • 她们中的部分人已老去
  • 更年轻的一代人已经失去了割麦子的手艺
  • 抽屉、耳垂、暗器中滑过一阵雨声
  • 男人、女人世世代代划分了性别之后
  • 才开始了以泥土和水为界
  • 秋天的冷,使我想起瓷器
  • 想起冰凉的原始森林。我愿意在你怀抱呼啸
  • 秋风猛烈的揺晃……



POET LI PO PASSING THROUGH HUISHAN*

  • By Hong Zhu

  • A lotus flower looks back, it sees a dragonfly.
  • A butterfly looks back, it sees Liangzhu**.
  • A Tang poem does the same, it sees poet Li Po,
  • who once looked over his shoulder, too.
  • Could he have seen me? I am one of Li Po’s other poems.
  • When a dream turns around, it’s time to wake up.
  • When a river turns around, time returns to the past.
  • When a road turns around and around,
  • it becomes a winding mountain road.
  • Can a mountain also turn around? How much effort would it take?
  • “Hui” means to go back, the same in Huishan and in Huijia
  • —to go back to the mountain or to go home.
  • If a mountain wants to go home, it will turn around.
  • But why am I here, in a town with a name like "Go-Back Mountain?"
  • All I want is to have a drink where Li Po once looked back.
  • There is a universe in the glass as well as time bygone.
  • The vintage wine that Li Po got drunk on, let me see, what’s its name?
  • Is this a rhetorical question? Everyone knows it’s called Homesickness.

  • Notes:
  • * Huishan (literally translated into Go-Back Mountain) is in Zhejiang province
  • ** Liangzhu: The Butterfly lovers, tragic love story of a pair of lovers Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. One possible rendering of the second line: "Liang Shanbo looked back and saw his Zhu Yingtai." "A butterfly looked back and saw another butterfly..."

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/QEh3g2tKINapicrhhVkKWA


李白路过的回山镇

  • 洪烛


  • 一朵荷花回头,看见了蜻蜓
  • 一只蝴蝶回头,看见了梁祝
  • 一首唐诗回头,看见了李白
  • 李白也在这里回过头
  • 啊是否能看见我?我是李白的外一首
  • 一个梦回头,就醒了
  • 一条河回头,意味着时光倒流
  • 一条路回头,一次又一次回头
  • 就变成盘山公路
  • 一座山也会回头吗?
  • 那得用多大的力气?
  • 回山的回,和回家的回
  • 是同一个回字。即使是一座山
  • 只要想家了,就会回头
  • 我来回山镇干什么?没别的意思
  • 只想在李白回头的地方,喝一杯酒
  • 酒里有乾坤,也有春秋
  • 这种把李白灌醉的老酒,名字叫什么?
  • 还用问吗?叫乡愁




LIMITATIONS

  • By Li Qi

  • So sad— to be deeply attracted to a place,
  • but with no way of getting near even though the heart is willing.
  • My face turns pale, lips turn purple, death awaits.
  • "What you have is a bout of altitude sickness."
  • Here I am, a wretched creature from the lowland.

  • A body weighed down by clumsiness
  • —a metaphor itself or a reminder that
  • heaven and earth are indeed grandiose,
  • unlike my deplorable state,
  • laboring to breathe as I lay dying.

  • These snow-capped mountains and lakes,
  • this is where nature’s soul resides,
  • with hidden power and magic to enchant and hypnotize,
  • but now, all of them are gradually taken away from me.
  • What was a lofty plateau earlier is now a wet chrysanthemum,
  • looking grimmer and grimmer, unfurling a steely chilliness.

  • A transient only, but I have visited and revisited this place,
  • still, all that I picked up were fragments of illumination,
  • and the constant reminder of my limitations.
  • This dizziness is giving away clues,
  • here let me give you one: better to desire in small proportions.

  • Look, the meadow sparkles with children playing with yaks,
  • a sign that everything fits together naturally.
  • A child running with open arms
  • can take off any time now, and he may turn into a cloud or a star.

  • In the distance, a herd of handsome gazelles
  • hear something, freeze as if in a trance before swiftly turning around.
  • Look at the beautiful outline of their skulls.
  • They pause before dashing off again.
  • Did something just enlighten them?
  • They look like fairies
  • floating gracefully through the air.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/D66T23m5WRSeNLinbj95Jg


局 限

  • 作者:李琦


  • 真是悲哀,被深深吸引的地方
  • 我又一次力不从心
  • 面色苍白,嘴唇乌青
  • 几乎奄奄一息。“你这是高原反应”
  • 我这可怜的、来自低处的人

  • 肉身的尴尬和沉重
  • 本身已形成隐喻或者提醒
  • 天地大美,我却如此不堪
  • 连呼吸都开始困难,如弥留之际

  • 绝美的雪山和湖水
  • 大自然最为幽微神奇的地方
  • 那些魂魄之处,必有玄妙和暗藏的机密
  • 而此刻,这一切正逐渐对我关闭
  • 高原,这个词是泡开的雪菊
  • 颜色渐深,缓慢散发着清冽的凉意

  • 我是过客,即便来过数次
  • 也只能是拾取领悟的碎屑
  • 更为懂得,什么是局限
  • 有些暗示,竟是从晕眩中获得
  • 比如,什么叫作——适可而止

  • 你看,那和牦牛在草地上玩耍的孩子
  • 简直金光闪闪!那是默契的光芒
  • 那个孩子,他张着两臂奔跑
  • 随时都会飞起来,变成云朵或者星宿

  • 远处,一群矫健的小羚羊
  • 听到动静,忽然怔住,蓦然转身
  • 头颅的轮廓,那么优美
  • 停顿一秒,而后,它们似有所悟
  • 继续奔跑,轻盈的身姿
  • 飘逸如幻觉



AT THE OUTER EDGE

  • Li Qingsong

  • I'm determined to stay here at the margins, on the outer edges,
  • wandering off the mainstream, thrown into uncertainty,
  • in exile like the restless clouds
  • that have retreated from the sky, paths and fields.
  • All that remain are ruins, weathered landscape, and deserted mines.
  • Boundless silence in the wilderness,
  • through the dying sun the hawk's watchful eyes.

  • The first snow can’t rein in the adolescent or the cubs.
  • Their tender looks float out of the mountain pass.
  • Snowflakes twinkle on their eyelashes, warm blood raging and flowing.
  • Even the overnight blizzard will find its home ground.
  • On their animated faces, each permanent tooth will have its day to take place.

  • Some things are buried, so are names,
  • until they reveal their original essence.
  • An air so clear and unique to land’s end
  • blows on me until I feel like an elf or sprite!
  • I house a ferocious drive and a tender heart,
  • with milk replenished by winds and blizzards,
  • I nurture the beasts and the weaklings in me.

  • The eagles take the world to a new cliff,
  • the snow lotus raises me to a new height.
  • That untouchable place! I speak through a shaman—
  • There have been thirty-nine blizzards, I was reborn after each snow.


  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/yhtHMtGHWgZbp9Mhj8eZVA


边地之边

  • 李轻松

  • 我执着于这边地之边,界限之限
  • 那偏离了主流的航道,那乱了的阵脚
  • 那些流亡的人、那些流云
  • 从天空、从小径、从稻田里溃退
  • 剩下的是山川遗址、矿里废墟
  • 一片旷野里的千里寂静
  • 一团残阳里的猛禽之眼

  • 原雪收不住少年与幼崽
  • 他们新鲜的模样,浮出脸庞的山口
  • 雪花扑闪着眼睫。一条河保鲜了血脉与血性
  • 让一夜的大风雪找到自己的宿主
  • 面孔生动,每一颗恒牙都有新的生辰

  • 一些事物埋了土,一些人埋了名
  • 都具有了原始的生存气质
  • 一种边地的透明空气——
  • 吹得我如妖似仙!
  • 我空有虎狼之心,流水之意
  • 我被风雪灌满的乳汁
  • 喂养那凶猛的野兽,也喂养那柔弱的动物

  • 山鹰提升了这世界的悬崖,雪莲提升了我的高度
  • 那孤绝之境!用通灵者的嘴唇说出——
  • 那三十九场大雪,将我生于每一场雪后……



A MOUNTAIN OF PINE NEEDLES

  • By Li Yun

  • Squirrels and birds are probably experts at counting them,
  • counting them with ten fingers won’t be the way to go.
  • Too many pine needles to count.
  • Pine needles fly along nature's thread,
  • sewing the misty mountain scenery,
  • embroider a screen of resplendent brocade.
  • Heaven and earth in fine stitches.
  • Collect pine needles by hand
  • or rake them into a basket
  • and return home assured of fires.
  • They're much needed in an ordinary life.
  • Insert one needle deeply into a numb acupoint
  • to activate a passion,
  • to revive a kind of courage.
  • I am clueless to the change of pine needles.
  • I hear their silent falling
  • in a moonlit night, while I dream;
  • drizzle falls that way, rustles outside the window.
  • Glorious is the golden needle, but the wait is long,
  • and soon the mountain will be dense with old-growth pines,
  • Mt. Nanshan1, I beg you to invoke the pine needles with magic
  • to rise above my middle-aged muddles.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/-7QXVs8DidRNFzYj-gcyog


松针无数

  • 李云

  • 松鼠和鸟可能会数得清楚
  • 用十指肯定是数不过来
  • 松针无数
  • 飞针走线
  • 缝补山色溟濛
  • 绣出一屏锦绣
  • 天地间 细针密缕
  • 拾一枚松针在手
  • 或用竹扒搂集入筐
  • 回家盛火
  • 庸常的生活需要松针
  • 深扎麻木的穴位
  • 激活一种激情
  • 生存一种勇气
  • 松针何时在悄悄地生长我不知道
  • 松针无声的落我会听见
  • 月夜梦里
  • 牛毛细雨般地下窸窣窗外
  • 所谓金针度人
  • 我不会等到
  • 望满山苍松如盖似伞
  • 南山 恳请让松针度我
  • 走出焦虑的中年困境



THE LAMP

  • By Li Zhiyong

  • The flame is similar to a mountain, whose precipice is also blue.
  • Perhaps snow and boulders sit on the ridge of the mountain, reflecting light.
  • Someone may even be standing on it, looking at the edge of the sky.
  • The sun continues to rise and dip, dip and rise.

  • The lamp seems to be there specifically to forge something.
  • A stove, in the middle of the night, a silhouette busy by its side.
  • An excavator, a refugee, a writer, each huddles by the lamp.
  • It burns for their imaginings until the break of dawn.

  • The lamp carries the weight of its light, standing quietly on the table.
  • Every drop of oil takes part in fueling the flame.
  • When all is used up, things will take on a different look,
  • but it will be recognizable with the help of the lamp.

  • Because of the lamp, things cast shadows on the wall, even the lamp itself
  • casts a shadow. There is light,
  • therefore lamp walks out of the room, finding its way to the mountaintop.
  • It also finds its way to the sea.
  • As it glows, it hopes that the sea will dry up,
  • it hopes that the water will stay calm and stay cold.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Q1OrvaQsdlm7Xg5geHxUBQ


  • 作者:李志勇

  • 灯焰就像山峦,顶峰处也是蓝色的。在那山脊上
  • 也许也有积雪,有一些岩石,散发着光芒
  • 在那山脊上可能也有人站着,远眺着天空的边际
  • 太阳还在很远的地方升起落下,落下升起

  • 灯更像是专门为了锻造什么而生起的
  • 炉火,深夜中,一个身影一直在它旁边忙碌着
  • 挖掘的人、逃生的人、写作的人,都在灯边
  • 灯能为所有幻想燃烧到天亮

  • 灯担负着自己光的重量,静立在桌上
  • 在灯焰中,几乎所有的油都燃烧着
  • 当它耗尽,一切也许就会呈现另外一种面目
  • 但那,仍然还得通过灯来辨认

  • 通过灯,事物把影子留在墙上,甚至灯自身
  • 都会有一道影子,因为光的存在
  • 灯走出屋子。灯上到高山之巅。灯来到了海上
  • 闪耀着,也渴望大海枯去,渴望着水的宁静和冰凉



The Eagle

  • By Liang Jilin

  • In the sky over Alxa League on the Mongolian plateau, an eagle flies,
  • carrying on its wings an enormous amount of silence.
  • It circles, it dives, it tilts,
  • suddenly it lets out a screech,

  • as focused as when we miss someone,
  • as penetrating as our sorrows,
  • as willful as when we reject the world.

  • A double-humped camel walks out from the desert,
  • head high, aloof, on a mission to convey my coolness,
  • looking at the eagle,
  • looking at the grain of relic buried in the sun.

  • Tell them, Baghatur, or the herder called Buren Menghe,
  • what is it that I like—

  • from the Left Banner to the Right Banner,
  • with five hundred plus kilometers in between,
  • there's the one as fiery as some sixty-eight-proof spirits—
  • a flower, in red,
  • a red flower.

  • The eagle takes after the sun, the sun,
  • an eagle.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Ln73gMKyUey07y828pSi6g


  • 梁积林

  • 阿拉善盟,蒙古高原的上空
  • 一只鹰的翅膀上究竟能驮动多大的寂静
  • 它盘旋,它俯冲,它踅乎
  • 突然就唳了一声

  • 一个人的思念也不过如此
  • 一个人的伤心也不过如此
  • 一个人的遁世也不过如此一匹走出沙漠的双峰驼

  • 昂首,孤傲,挟带着我身体里的冷峻
  • 看鹰
  • 看一粒太阳的舍利

  • 巴特尔,或者就是那个叫布仁孟和的牧人
  • 我喜欢什么来着——

  • 从左旗到右旗
  • 五百多公里的距离
  • 就是那个有六十八度酒一样烈的人名字
  • 琪琪格,红
  • 红琪琪格

  • 鹰像太阳,太阳
  • 像鹰。



MATTERS OF REGRET

  • Ling Lan

  • Too bad, Ah, Sei Shōnagon
  • wrote about four seasons’ delights1,
  • but she certainly didn't see
  • the midnight summer rain, or the twilight
  • that raises the face of every tear-filled rose;
  • on a low wall, the cuckoos’ impatient calling.

  • She also didn't see that person, in dim light,
  • wrote out a name repeatedly on a notepaper,
  • like a moth drawn to a flame.

  • When I hear the cuckoos call
  • and know the barn is empty,
  • only a few pellets of popped wheat left in my hand.
  • This season burns like fire.
  • An even-tempered bookish man engrossed a dictionary.
  • In the open field musk thistle and red thatch grass are blooming,
  • seed staking shape.

  • Note:
  • 1. The Pillow Book2 gave examples of season's delight: Spring daybreaks; Moonlit summer nights, or dark nights with dancing fireflies; Fall, sunset clouds towards the evening and red maples; Winter days, early dusk.
  • 2. An essay collection written and completed in 1002 CE by Japanese poet and essayist Sei Shōnagon.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/n3SNCmrQ47J7qYojhV5xaQ


憾 事

  • 铃兰

  • 多遗憾呀,写下四时之趣①的
  • 清少纳言肯定没见过
  • 夏日夜半落雨,清晨旭日升,那光芒
  • 恰恰好托起一朵朵含泪的蔷薇
  • 矮墙上布谷鸟叫声急促

  • 你也没见过灰暗的灯光里,便笺上
  • 重复了无数遍的名字
  • 像飞蛾扑向灯火

  • 当我听到布谷鸟叫时
  • 粮仓空空
  • 手心里只有几粒炒熟的麦子
  • 时令如火烧。
  • 好脾气的书生在读词典
  • 田野里飞廉和红茅草开花,正在结籽

  • 注①:《枕草子》写四时之趣,是指春天破
  • 晓,夏日月夜或暗夜流萤飞舞,秋天傍晚晚霞
  • 红枫,冬日早晨。



DAISY IN SPRINGTIME

  • By Mowo Er

  • Who knows if the Milky Way has seasons
  • and their stars tend to stray off in the spring
  • to cascade on Earth.
  • Is that why she encounters a small cosmic force
  • when catching Line 10
  • at Chastity Gate Tube Station^?
  • Holding a bunch of daisies she just bought,
  • next to a friend who has the flashier peonies,
  • side by side they stand on the escalator.
  • Side by side too when they were school girls
  • some twenty years ago.
  • Their bicycles gently glided over the horizon
  • as wildflowers spread around their wide skirts.
  • Nothing captured their heart like Italy then,
  • a web radiating out from the Mediterranean Sea,
  • but now, Lancôme is on the billboard,
  • a pair of red lips—oh, what curvature, how irresistible—
  • as if urging her to break away from old bondages.
  • Of course, the names Daisy, Aster, or Marguerite de Valois
  • evoke more than the names of the seasons.
  • At the tube station,
  • their newly awakened bodies
  • wait for the carriages to come to a stop.
  • Maybe this time the right door will open,
  • and unlock a secret world for them.

  • Note: ^Anzhenmen Tube Station

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/bC5fyrddjNlrgGHweKcBeA


雏 菊

  • 作者:莫卧儿


  • 银河里的星星在春天
  • 时常因为决堤改道
  • 奔流到地球上来
  • 地铁十号线安贞门站口
  • 她遭遇了一场小规模瀑布
  • 怀抱刚买的雏菊
  • 和怀抱洋牡丹的女友
  • 肩并肩站在电梯上
  • 轻松倒带回二十年前
  • 高中生的单车
  • 摩擦着地平线的睫毛
  • 小野花雾气一般弥漫在大裙摆间
  • 再没有比意大利做经线
  • 地中海做纬线更诱惑的网了
  • 面前Lancome广告牌红唇的弧度微妙
  • 泄露是否需要挣脱网绳
  • 成为这个时代的悬念
  • 而春菊、延命菊、玛格丽特之花
  • 这些孪生名片听起来
  • 比季节更有说服力
  • 地铁站里的她们
  • 有着刚刚觉醒的胴体
  • 只等一节呼啸而来的车厢
  • 插入锁孔,咔哒一声
  • 秘密机关洞开



THE RUMBLE OF THUNDER, METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING

  • By Nan Qiu

  • No sign of heavy rain despite the incessant rumble of thunder.
  • A premonition that I better heed.
  • At least I should be fully attentive
  • to analyzing the source.

  • A lot like someone crying a long cry but there are no tears.
  • A lot like a long rehearsal without saying a line on stage.
  • A lot like a mansion with open doors but no one comes and goes.
  • A lot like a Taoist monk reciting incantations
  • but no relatives are present.
  • A lot like a protagonist in an epic novel who has yet to appear.

  • Perhaps this world is an illusion,
  • only the rumble of thunder is real.
  • It strikes a contrary note
  • that thunder rumbles high and far but is incapable of human pathos.
  • Perhaps thunder struggles to communicate,
  • and we are far too preoccupied with other things.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊) : https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/0LqSaStMngwlZDtuFpg35Q


雷声,或者语意

  • 作者:南秋

  • 这么长久的雷声却不见大雨落下
  • 我必须引以为戒了
  • 至少,我必须认真地倾听
  • 剖析它们的来路

  • 这多么像长嚎之人却不见眼泪落下
  • 这多么像蓄势已久的朗诵却不见一句台词
  • 这多么像一座大房子敞开着却不见一人出入
  • 这多么像道士忘我地念念有词地做法事
  • 却不见一名至亲在场
  • 这多么像长篇巨著中未有一个主角现身

  • 或许,这世界只是个虚拟
  • 只有雷声是真实的
  • 或许,恰恰相反
  • 雷声虽然通天,却未必通晓人间
  • 或许,雷声言不达意
  • 我们已经入木三分



MY LOVE AND HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH MT. QINLING

  • By Nan Shutang

  • The reason why I hated it
  • was because it blocked my view, pretending
  • to be the end of the world. Still, it served
  • as a prison where I jailed people and things
  • that I loved to hate but dared not hate.
  • I took it all out on Mt.Qinling,
  • so when I hated you, and you, once, twice, and thrice,
  • I piled my hatred mountain high;
  • surely one of Qinling’s peaks was my work.
  • Hear the rainless thunder from the mountain,
  • hear its echoes spreading hatred.

  • But I loved it, too, though knew not how to say it
  • the way birds sang their praises
  • or peach blossoms showed their ardent love.
  • The craggy headstone and hardy grass
  • around my father’s grave spoke for my constant love,
  • which I simply wrote down as a list of words
  • and arranged them based on a secret formula,
  • just like a pharmacist writing out a prescription,
  • then fed them to the spring breeze and autumn wind.
  • The peak of the mountain is said to grow at a rate of two millimeters per year.
  • Does that growth partly come from the power of my love?

  • Nowadays I am more nonchalant,
  • very little love or hatred involved,
  • and the mountain seems to treat me just the same way,
  • listening to me calmly
  • without a trace of joy or sadness.
  • Now I can sit down with it snugly
  • and strike up a conversation.
  • If my past love and hatred could be returned to me,
  • I will use that love to backfill the cavities
  • undermined by hatred, so that we will see,
  • between the steep cliff faces and deep trenches,
  • some gentler landforms worthy of our trust.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/xX1G805GeHDPAR8mpFHyUg


爱恨秦岭

  • 南书堂

  • 恨它的理由,是它一直
  • 阻挡我的视野,充当着
  • 世界的尽头。可它又像为我的恨
  • 专设了一个衙门,让我把
  • 想恨不敢恨的人和事
  • 冲着它,恨上一回,再恨上一回
  • 这样一推算,它的某个山峰
  • 肯定由我的恨堆积而成
  • 从山顶偶尔传来的闷雷
  • 仿佛这些恨的回声

  • 爱它,却无言表达
  • 因而鸟鸣和桃花
  • 抢先说出了鲜丽的部分
  • 长着白牙的巨石和父亲坟头的小草
  • 代言了执著的部分
  • 我只需药师一样,把一些词语
  • 按秘密的剂量,写在
  • 春风或者秋风的处方笺上
  • 据说,它的主峰,还在以每年
  • 两厘米的速度往高里长
  • 是不是其中也包含了我爱的力量

  • 现在,我对它更多的是
  • 不爱不恨,就像它
  • 始终都在平静地倾听
  • 而不显露悲喜
  • 现在,我已是可以与它坐下来
  • 促膝相谈的人,如果它能
  • 把我曾经的爱恨还给我
  • 我就会用那些爱去填补恨
  • 砸出的深谷,使人生看起来
  • 像这崇山峻岭间,确有
  • 一个个值得信任的平缓地带




A HEART SWIMMING IN SOLITUDE

  • By Sea of July

  • A drowned man returned from the night
  • to touch her fingers, to teach her to play
  • the river that was not there.

  • Eyes float in the dark,
  • and the heart swims in solitude.
  • She wants to cry for the water’s sorrows,
  • and laugh for its happiness.

  • “I can no longer keep up
  • with the white goddess, let me submit to my own magic.”
  • A voice digs deep into her.

  • She takes his place and looks out the window
  • where the moon rises, plain-looking like a white dot.
  • The river’s waves are meaningless, too, hardly a eulogy.

  • All night she could not leave the dark spell,
  • but she loves the water’s lacework
  • far more than the snake deep in the river.

  • —How beautiful and quiet it is!
  • When she was cast ashore like a big fish,
  • she continues to search for the mysterious water.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/v1N0mt4Jv1PwBk7qOQOlmQ


一颗心在孤独里游泳

  • 作者:七月的海


  • 溺死的人从黑夜中返回
  • 又一次牵动她的手指,去弹奏
  • 那条乌有的河流

  • 一个人的眼睛
  • 在黑夜里浮动,一颗心在孤独里游泳
  • 她想替水哭,替水笑

  • “我再也无法追上
  • 那白色的神像了,我只能屈从于自身的魔力”
  • 一个声音洞穿了她

  • 她替他忧伤地看着窗外
  • 而此刻,月亮只是一个白点
  • 浪花更是无用的悼词

  • 整个夜晚,她都在魔障里转圈
  • 但她爱锯齿状的花边
  • 胜过那条藏于水底的蛇

  • ——多么寂静而美好啊
  • 当她突然像一条大鱼
  • 被抛到岸上,她还在寻找那些秘密的水




MARRIAGE

  • By Song Qiyuan

  • Crags everywhere, as if in a dream.
  • You hop between crags (or something like crags), into the light.
  • The light shows a cliff’s silhouette but not its depth.
  • With each jump, you rise from the valley,
  • and continue to jump, changing postures, here and there.
  • Although it can be very frightening, just like the night
  • when you lost your virginity, but no one dies from it.
  • In the real world, it doesn’t work that way—
  • you would be trembling with fear to jump down a floor.
  • Vertigo is very real to us small creatures. Some didn’t believe it and jumped off the bridge,
  • off a tree, or off a roof and died, I feel sorry for these deaths. So sad.
  • It is pointless to compare dreams to reality. In dream things do not have dimensions,
  • still it may be necessary to discuss what a foot is, or three feet, or six feet.
  • Relatively speaking, I prefer unattached objects. You have sorrows, so do I.
  • Sadness can suddenly appear, just like happiness
  • can suddenly enter a pure waking world. Early morning in November,
  • the most significant crags are those in my inner world;
  • they rise straight up, fragrant. Now, we sit together,
  • but don’t talk much. We are crag hoppers in the eyes of wild beasts.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/p5_9dTR96iNGFCZJL72isA


婚 姻

  • 宋憩园

  • 像梦里,悬崖到处都是。
  • 你不断跳悬崖(或类似悬崖),跳入光亮。
  • 它有轮廓,因为亮着,不能确定其深度。
  • 每次跳完,你又从里面升上来
  • 继续跳,变换姿势跳。跳过来跳过去,
  • 死不了,跳崖的恐惧明显如初夜。
  • 现实中,你不该这样操作,即便二楼,你都颤抖
  • 如某种临危的小动物。有人不信,在桥上,在楼顶
  • 在树上,跳下去,死了,我为这些死难过。那么难过。
  • 比较梦境和现实是没意义的。它们没尺寸,可是
  • 谈论一尺、三尺、六尺却是有必要的。
  • 相较而言,我喜欢游离之物。你有忧伤,我也有。
  • 忧伤突然显现,像感到幸福那样
  • 进入醒着的洁白。在十一月初的清晨,我感受最多的
  • 是内心的悬崖。陡峭而且芬芳。现在,我们坐在这里。
  • 并不多话。在野兽的眼里跳过来跳过去。



ZHANG XIAOJING’S AUTUMN

  • By Tian Fa

  • A busy time for Zhang Xiaojing in the autumn.
  • Even before her crowfeet can relax,
  • she has to be in the field for the day’s work.
  • The grapes are ripe. As her husband,
  • I can only afford to come home now and then.
  • Therefore when my neighbors see me, they are all smiles:
  • “you are here to lend a hand.”
  • It seems as if Autumn is hers only,
  • and dreamlike I have been left out.
  • For Zhang Xiaojing, Autumn is here,
  • and I'm more like one of her hired hands.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/3m9aPRoFEleae4ENVWqabg

张晓静的秋天

  • 作者:田 法


  • 张晓静的秋天是忙碌的
  • 连眼角的鱼尾纹
  • 也顾不上舒展
  • 就要去地里干活
  • 葡萄熟了。而作为她的男人
  • 我只是隔三差五才能回来一趟
  • 以至邻居见了我,都笑着说
  • 回来帮忙来了
  • 仿佛,秋天只是她一个人的
  • 潜意识已把我
  • 忽略。张晓静的秋天
  • 我更像她的一个雇工



OLD THINGS

  • By Wang Erdong

  • All have become relics since you’re gone.
  • Some clothes were never worn, now reduced to ashes.
  • Food not eaten was offered to ancestors with incense.
  • Your new grave sits on the old earth
  • where you used to kneel and refuse to leave.
  • It’s your bed now.
  • You may be waiting for reincarnation,
  • but I don’t believe in meeting in the afterlife.
  • In any case we won’t recognize each other.
  • You have become a relic of eternity.
  • The wind will blow away the dust collected on the window sills
  • while you stood there dreaming of liberty.
  • The window frames were painted red over and over,
  • but peeling will accelerate with time.
  • After you left, I have decided
  • not to love love’s past.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/GM5HXxrgwZsxHME-TJHYBg


旧 物

  • 王二冬

  • 你走之后,所有事物都成了旧的
  • 没穿的新衣,一把火就成了灰烬
  • 没咽的饭菜,一炷香就成了祭品
  • 就连新坟上的土也是旧的
  • 这一次,你终于躺在了年轻时
  • 长跪不起的地方,等待来世
  • 来世,你或许会再次成为新的
  • 我是等不到了,就算再见
  • 我们也不会相识。在我的生命中
  • 你是旧的永恒,吹过窗台的风
  • 也会蒙上你渴望自由的灰尘
  • 旧的窗棂,红漆刷得越多
  • 时光脱落得越快,你走之后
  • 我决定,爱过的就不再去爱了



Hibiscus

  • By Yu Xiaozhong

  • Now I believe all that appear in dreams
  • have taken a long, arduous journey,
  • and by chance come to our dreams to rest with us.

  • Much like those who left their old homes,
  • now antediluvian,
  • get acquainted with new neighbors.

  • Much like the pigeons in the glow of sunset,
  • circling near one another
  • nudge even closer to whisper.

  • Much like hibiscus that blooms after autumn frost,
  • its name tells its borrowed status, predetermined
  • to take an ambiguous role,
  • will do almost any task.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Im3YWnZMxnfLBlzu5kO9Og


木芙蓉

  • 余笑忠

  • 如今我相信,来到梦里的一切
  • 都历经长途跋涉
  • 偶尔,借我们的梦得以停歇

  • 像那些离开老房子的人
  • 以耄耋之年,以老病之躯
  • 结识新邻居

  • 像夕光中旋飞的鸽子
  • 一只紧随着另一只
  • 仿佛,就要凑上去耳语

  • 像寒露后盛开的木芙蓉
  • 它的名字是借来的,因而注定
  • 要在意义不明的角色中
  • 投入全副身心



RETURNING FROM TEMPLE OF GREAT AWAKENING

  • BY Zang Di

  • Dusk, an unassuming ruin of the day,
  • an unprecedented break of
  • silence and presence in life’s routine;

  • halfway up the mountain, with the loveliest angle to look out and far,
  • it affords the view of every ridge and every trough,
  • but the softer transitions are well hidden, in space and in time;

  • there will be time when a human heart feels ethereal
  • and goes for the profound; then life flows instead of following impulses.
  • Still it will take a little extra something for the soul to transcend.

  • There, perhaps the horizonis more than just a portal;
  • Lend us the mountain's breeze, which brings with it relics of a distant past,
  • and bales out sorrows through a sieve, floating, far away.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/IppJeoRnLOIsZWVkbwzCAA


大觉寺归来

  • 臧 棣

  • 黄昏时分,一个废墟谦卑如
  • 人生的空白还从来没有
  • 在你面前如此安静过;

  • 半山腰多娇一个自然的角度,
  • 俯瞰交替远眺,乾坤的极限逃不过
  • 有时,缓冲带在历史中藏得太深;

  • 而人心一旦缥缈,自我难免会
  • 投靠深奥;看上去,生动多于冲动,
  • 但总差那么一点,才是灵魂出窍。

  • 或者,地平线也不过是一道门槛;
  • 借着山风,古老的遗风吹进来,
  • 将巨人的悲伤过滤成沉浮太偏僻。



A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING

  • Zhang Lin

  • Some things are big from birth, like oceans.
  • Some things are small ’till death, like grass.

  • Still a few other things
  • were already old when we got acquainted, like this old family home.
  • I myself, am gradually passing from small to big,
  • through the journey of growing old and feeble.

  • —All my life
  • I am like a sprig of grass, thinking of the ocean, as if that is home.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/dHc49m3VRxyVJ6aDOMguPg


大意如此

  • 张 琳

  • 有些东西,生来就是大的,比如大海
  • 有些东西,至死也是小的,比如小草

  • 还有一些东西
  • 我认识她时就老了,比如老家

  • 我,正慢慢经历着
  • 从小到大,再渐渐衰老的过程

  • ——我的一生
  • 就像一棵小草,想起大海,如临故乡



EMBER-ROASTED SWEET-POTATO

  • By Zhang Xinquan

  • To roast sweet potatoes,
  • he selects the finest ones that speak to him,
  • places them in a barrel-shaped oven,
  • and arranges them to get snug and cozy along the oven's wall
  • in a circle, stretching, sweating,
  • just like poets. Aah! Aa! Ouch!
  • roasted over coals, they slowly turn soft, aromatic, sweet,
  • moans and sighs are now softer, giving steamy scents,
  • Mmm...
  • Before considering it done, he’d make sure
  • everyone is evenly roasted front and back
  • until he too becomes an ember-roasted sweet potato.
  • The red glow on his face and his coarse garment
  • has me awestruck,
  • so I huddle close to the oven and listen to his stories.
  • When he is flat out, I handle the money and change,
  • sharing his simple fare of strong tea and baked sesame bread.

  • It's dusk and I ride with him on his sweet-potato cart to go home.
  • Q: What do you do, my gray-haired big brother?
  • A: I write, paid by number of words, a few decades now.
  • He chuckles and says: "Far better to code sweet potatoes.
  • Change job, better to be a sweet, warm-hearted street pedlar..."

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊) : https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/zKn-uAZcNxiORBCQXlo56g


布衣红薯

  • 作者:张新泉

  • 烤红薯就是把红薯中
  • 优秀而落寞的选出来
  • 放进炉子,让它们贴着炉壁
  • 站成一圈。伸腰,淌汗
  • 诗人一样——哦!啊!噢!
  • 然后逐渐变软,变香,变甜
  • 由叹气到哈气,到噫吁嚱
  • 卖红薯的烤完前胸又烤后背
  • 直到把自己也烤成一根
  • 红光满面的布衣红苕
  • 直到吸引我驻足观赏
  • 偎他炉子听他身世倚他车辕
  • 忙不过来时,帮他收整找零
  • 也接受他浓茶伴烧饼的便餐

  • 黄昏,搭他架子车回家
  • 问:白发老兄什么的干活?
  • 答:一个几十年的码字工
  • 他笑笑说,码字不如码红苕
  • 改行吧,来当糖心蜜肺的小商贩……



A HUMBLE POEM

  • By Zhang Zuogeng

  • The inexplicable
  • tiny
  • eye of a needle that lets a camel walk through,
  • the camel that looks like a small tumbleweed
  • will now enter my eye.

  • The earth that shudders under the wheelchair,
  • the rain’s glitter that falls through the air undetected,
  • those sobs that faintly ripple between the fingers,
  • the tender bud unaffected by the cold spell in spring…

  • The meteor shower
  • that slid by and caressed my cheeks,
  • the inexplicable
  • tiny
  • bristles of spring wheat that brushed against my heart…

  • —each of them a grain of sand that built the pagoda—
  • my humble and tenacious life.
  • Things infinitesimal,
  • smaller than a second,
  • but when I hold them all,
  • I feel larger than the universe.
  • When I gather all of their lightness,
  • I feel all the things that make up my life.

  • Therefore, I bend
  • like a sheaf of wheat.

  • Translated by Duck Yard Lyricists, a group of devoted poetry lovers: Meifu Wang, Peter Micic, Michael Soper, & Johan Ramaekers

  • Symultaneouly broadcast in China via Wexin (微信) by our partner — China's Poetry Journal (诗刊): https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/jRqB8KxNlxbvgYfl366RhA





卑微之诗

  • 作者:张作梗

  • 那微妙的
  • 微小的
  • 针孔里走骆驼的
  • 从任一方向看去都像微末的飞蓬
  • 要钻进我眼睛里的

  • 那轮椅下战栗的地面
  • 那空中察觉不到的雨星儿
  • 那微澜,那从手指缝里迸出的啜泣
  • 那一粒倒春寒也捂不熄的嫩芽儿

  • 那滑过我脸颊的
  • 流星的抚摸
  • 那微妙的
  • 微小的
  • 像春天的麦芒儿拂过我心尖的吹息……

  • ——它们聚沙成塔
  • 构成了我卑微而顽强的一生
  • 这些微茫的
  • 比一秒钟还小的东西
  • 当我完整地拥有了它们
  • 我感觉我比宇宙还大
  • 是它们的轻,让我获得了生命的重量——

  • 我因此像谷穗
  • 低下头来。