Chapter 3 Volume 3: Poetry, I Found You Again (1979-1989)

--Poetry, I found you again Bist Du bei mir, Gehich mit Freuden... Green, green, Liu Si trembling, It is the transparent thin wings in early spring, passing over the branches. Why people can't see her, Where are you, lithe elf?where? "Here, in your heart." She replied softly. Oh, didn't I bury you? !Poetry, when the autumn wind is bleak, The grass is withered, the leaves are falling, my pen is broken, I carry you to the moors, hillsides, where I buried my beloved, Looking back, wiping my tears, I only saw the hunger of wild dogs. They pile rubbish on your grave, moldy and stinking,

Sun and rain, but the earth embraces, digests and absorbs you. A gust of wind blows away the winter clouds, and the spring rains, Green, green, Liu Si trembling, It is the transparent thin wings passing over the branches in early spring. My limbs are soaked in the spring cold, and I walk in the drizzle, Across the fields, to her grave, Suddenly, softly, so softly, Oh where are you?where?I look around, "Here it is, my dear, in your heart." From the rubbish, from the ruins, from the black loam, Waking up, waking from sleep, the spring awakens you, Softly, my love, stretching and yawning,

The sorrow left by the funeral, like the remains of the river, The water and snow melted, the larks sang, and it sank into people's memory. Oh, I found you again, my love, with tears in my eyes, When I run forward and embrace you, only to see the smoke, A wisp rises curlingly and disappears into the clear sky in an instant. What? !What? !You... I can't see you anymore, Thy wise eyes, joy in a moment, Turned into grief, can't we be reunited? Dirge, play it again, people come to cry. But the grass on the ground asked softly: Is she not here?Not in the spring green? The light green of willow silk, the emerald green of pines...

I kiss the soil on your grave with joy. Let my heart turn green, I found you again, Where is the green spring, you are everywhere In my heart, you will always be in my heart. Bist Du bei mir, Gehich mit Freuden... If you are by my side, I will go happily... Written in Beijing in 1979 dawn of august Accompanied by the newly opened lotus, time in doubt Looking back, staying, and moving forward, The earth is constantly spinning, The petals move unseen, budding and open, The wind gently plays with the lotus Blush in white, at the reddish tip Balanced with ideal and serenity, only drops

Rolling on green leaves covered with silver velvet Silver flows on the plate of jasper sometimes Brought by the wind to another jasper plate, There was the sound of raindrops in the silence. footsteps Sucked up by the long grass on the path, But a yellowish poplar leaf Quietly flying and spinning, floated down The earth suddenly experienced A silent shudder, Time didn't stop, autumn has reached the treetops, but lotus still slowly stretching, slowly open, as if to say Let each life complete its own course, This is beauty. when summer is gone end of a movement Although the green sleeves of summer

Has brushed across the grass, gone, why not on the frame Leaving behind the colorful colors of autumn, and sparse and straight woods, how many lives The lotus that forgets time, Although it is autumn, Still unfurling its petals calmly, Go through your own journey. The lotus leaf that will eventually fail hanging low in the water, There are snow-white lotus root festivals. Early Autumn 1982 The gray wind shakes the windows Pour thousands of years of resentment at my window I cry like a mother If howling can bite the bondage of the heart let it continue how old is the tomb how much resentment sinks

Wind is "energy" crazy push windmill this morning the sun said It was all wrong yesterday, you see How blue the sky is, ignore it From today we only have sunny days i stared at it strangely The wind in my heart makes me dizzy In winter, silkworm cocoons are weaving diligently. A transparent palace of silk enveloped the city. We are under the gray sky, The creation of life is being carried out nervously. On the overpass, time flows with a vortex, Creeping life is slowly in sleepy eyes Look for spring windows. night falls, The whole cocoon is transparent, dark fire burning in the prairie chest,

play on the forehead of the earth Rubbing my frozen hands and feet, From that cocoon wall, we will Open the window to peep into the spring? Oh, thinking of the days when I flapped my wings, The whistling of the north wind became lovely, It's a baby crying, People listen: expecting, anxiously waiting The cocoon wall that was finally eaten through. The ice of the moat melted, wrinkled river surface Reflecting sparse spring shadows. a pair of peeping eyes Concentrating on the flowing river. There's a gaping mouth in my body it's like a roaring lion It rushed to the bridge of the river

Looking at the turbulence under the bridge The ship slipping quietly through the bridge hole It hears the roar of the times like a roar in the forest it looks back at me Walking back into the cage of my body The lion's golden hair is like sunlight The elephant's roar is like a drum Flower-like vitality came back to my body The lion takes me to the bridge there i go on a date the river black as lead sink like lead a white fish struggling, rolling her round arms hold up high bring out the dangerous river of lead palm up The transparent wings are flapping resting spirit

lotus stem green The snow-white lotus is shaking slightly silver beads rolling in the long On the plump lotus leaves of silvery hair The whole background is jet black heavy flight Green in dark oil: growth. Snow, squeeze in by the wind again sweep out so eager to cover � Through the winter woods the gray snake's way, its leaden face, anxious car brushes by � Winter Forest in the Fog Note that it only remains wide open mouth twisted arm praying gesture silent cry stinging ear these silent Notes black woods we talked about childhood traces in the snow meandering follow

the track ahead, plus our, plus behind us. occasionally say a few words Today's, Previously Here, there. Gray snake meandering in and out of the woods snow is squeezing in car drives home in dream Dialogue emerges from chaotic waters sank into the ocean again The ups and downs of the gray back of the whale childhood, boston, snow woods come alive more real part But no sound came out. bonfire From smoke to jubilant flames in someone else's life find revived youth stars in the sky no longer reveal the magic of life In the dark blue night sky no longer appear The boat of the future late autumn Every leaf has been green again in the silent dawn Stained red, brown, brown, ocher Dissolving in the ups and downs of the deep mountains burning his body people who know how to love fallen leaves It is no longer as white as a water lily Autumn's ripe fruit, loneliness, If someone turns over this boulder What he will find is not emptiness and desert but a strong desire, unattainable wish, that boil under the earth's crust Under the forehead of the volcano with its snow cap. mature loneliness it's not Those whirling green leaves, that refuse to let the green flow Into the young leaves of the golden chasm. brilliant lava between us is the turbulence in the abyss Although the hand is a bridge, Can't reach out to that rolling consciousness. whirling dark air Wrap your throat with dead gauze too Where is that other me? another you?Another him! The substance of the universe is swept away Not tightening the noose she slipped away, let loose in the red glow of a certain dawn had a mysterious glimpse in the looming light disappear immediately into the ruthlessness of the morning scattered clouds From orange to dark red to off-white holy not permanent eternity is broken glass Glitter in the flowing clouds maybe in this corner maybe in that corner so good at games The moon is getting really cold Certainly no dew and young tears Only loneliness exists and does not exist or, non-existent real existence it permeates the wind and the churning clouds chasing after the unhappened And people's footprints only stay In the windless moon dust, in death. Look for yourself and others in the mirror Seeing many voices but no faces The mirror dimmed and went out No form was found, only many echoes flow in the trees, in the sea, in the sky You open the door, and you see that sitting in the Long-gone relatives, teenage girls and children You are walking in the busy city, but you hear lonely footsteps behind you the footsteps that you once waited in the path of the woods When you spin around, the noise of the city is like a black wave engulfs you, and the eyes of the dead. like the ebb and flow of the tide and a visit from an unexpected visitor from afar like a knock at night because when you use careful hands Close the door with a click you know there's something locked out Now she's knocking, knocking, knocking She didn't grow old, let alone die so no need to regenerate She holds the ripe fruit of autumn When I close my eyes, the door opens The valley is full of lonely fog wander like a ghost fog, fog, fog mature loneliness with wings she cursed the moon dust want to bury her ankles that is a lifeless A desolate world without mutation Mature loneliness loves the mutant world I have mature loneliness To the crowd, in the tumultuous presence listen to her soft breathing That which does not exist fills you with imagination and confidence If you turn over that lonely boulder You glimpse the ever-present non-existence like red lava under the brow with the snow cap Churning, swirling, thinking turbulence. what is locked outside the door she will come in as long as You close your eyes and the door opens by itself. I carry it in my pocket mature loneliness Walk in the world, a dervish. (Published in the first issue of "Poetry Magazine" in 1989) A flock of birds flies by the window only see their shadows dazzled by the cold sun smeared on the wall of the brown building Saibei's strong wind blows Branches of locust tree stripped of clothes Although this summer it smells of flesh Snow-white skin with plump strings full of branches, hanging down to the ground but it's winter now Who wants to be chained to the frozen earth? In the dark winter, death is the torch Many people think so. roots stretching from afar Underground passages that have gone through thousands of years when i want to remove it Good to plant brilliant flowers I track, dig until, jerk up saw a beautiful tree i use bloody fingers symbol of warding off evil i know i can't dig it it is the mother of our graves The bare feet of spring flash past the door But she is not free The grasses are humming in the ground The canopy of the silk tree in front of my door is like a black silk screen throw your shadow into the sky But the sky is cold and indifferent deception and truth same glow spring face half crying, half laughing someone fell into a swamp Arms turn into black dead branches Someone climbed the dazzling snow mountain Lost under the cliff of the snow mountain Anger at Chunyin trigger an avalanche buried false waiting, Death may be the richest life. floating in the chaotic liquid Internal organs develop in pain The beak feels the desire to attack Wings like oars without water crooked paws no mud plane sudden light like atomic explosion it limp on the mud pink hairless body accepting the brutal impact of life winding wall peeling paint door refused to take to the street Jujube trees turn their heads and call out to the countryside twisted black branch Extend the golden broken flowers to the small alley The intoxicating aroma blocks the encroachment of the city Confused Ancient City Night Still reverberating deep in people's hearts But my mother's wedding photos have faded The naked body of the first boy has also disappeared Storm, Frenzy, Twist teaching tenderness and smiling The beak feels the desire to attack pecking through the alley gate broke out on trembling legs stand up, fall down again with half-closed eyes look at the world full of explosions noon as silent as midnight people are asleep sun lost in its own light Noon is the night of sound. Alley between stone walls Separate the sea from my building turn these, suddenly your body stretched before my eyes A slightly trembling dark blue satin Your snow-white fingers caress the sand low gasp only happy mother beast licking my limbs like this i walk into you you fled to the distance again But swinging the fluffy curls call back to me The suction of the ocean floor pulls you you want me in hypnosis into the depths of your unknown sun like golden rain on your quivering robes blue satin robe who would have thought The cold darkness in the depths? Yantai in the autumn of 1984 (Painted by the Italian painter Modigliani in 1917) red hair a burning dahlia growing on black ground The black velvet robe wrapped autumn body, slippery Half exposed shoulders, fat arms and that which connects mind and body slender, brown neck The waist still lingers on the girl's years. Deep black eyes awakened consciousness The Bewildered Hypnosis of the West at the Beginning of the Century half-downcast gaze Yet the eyelids are not slack The disjointedness of time causes the disorder of texture. as if feeling the large leaves of the plane tree is hardening, the sun is the dance after midnight Dahlia and rose This tireless dancer is still here Sing, dance and shout like hell However, Xia Tian is finally an abandoned rocket The necklace hangs intermittently on the chest beads, hopes, tears, amorous gaze dripping from this chest Wrapped in a black velvet robe Autumn's body, while dahlias are still Burning, fiery red hair. from pink baby to Rheumatic Elderly with Eagle's Claw Joints She's looking at a half-open door of time from there to The calm night sky after the sunset glow fades away. --Record of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Third Movement "Oh, no noise!" said Beethoven* Seek, seek, his soul seeks Deaf music is suppressed deep bottom it's going to break out of the cold rock formations It takes the whole imprisoned mind burst out in the sun under the cliff, on the sea To penetrate into the hearts of millions sunlight hovering over the treetops to reach into deep black lake bottom moonlight trembling in the sky to enter sleepy body darkness stuffed his ears Deaf minds seek, seek looking for a spewing mountain pass impotent instrumental beats on the deaf door not liberated shackles of lava, lava to pour, to erupt, to that red liquid column Squirt from beneath the crust of dark souls. Once upon a time, the earth made musical instruments grow Like spring bamboo shoots, put human expectations One sentence to appeal to fate However, no! "Stop the noise!" It's just the wind outside the church did not blow to the depths of people's hearts is the cry from behind the tombstone Nothing can shock the footsteps of stepping on the grass of the tomb! The muffled thunder on the distant mountain did not bring downpours of rain He still seeks, seeks, seeks... What can embrace hundreds of millions of people? stretch out the arm of the danube Ignite Beidou's eyes With hard lips closed like sea clams To declare his love for men, his hatred for darkness A plea for the future, a rage for blood. Found it, found it: Only singing, only words, words, words Weaving the brocade of the soul with electro-optic tilt in people's ears The halls of hearing are full of joy The torrent of "Ode to Joy" flows through every heart Only singing can Extract the plasma from the mountain Pillar of fire unleashed, leaving the abyss behind unstoppable river of fire The long amber river reflects the white snow devoured the green trees and villages Spread the fertile dust all over the land The fiery hooves of the red horse gallop across the green field spend yourself in time dead, silent Volcano with big mouth left towards the sky, waiting wait silent, gentle blue sky after a few centuries seen in a birth lush forest Under the snow mountain, what is buried is deaf music, the cry of the deaf saint He searched, found and waited. *Note: Beethoven wrote his greatest Ninth Symphony while completely deaf.When the music entered the third movement, according to Beethoven, he felt that no instrument could express the passion in his heart, because a baritone sang: "Stop these noises!" and then sang Schiele's "Ode to Joy".Before the beginning of the vocal music, Beethoven used the strings to play a melody full of wandering and searching, as if Beethoven was looking for a way to better express his deaf and painful soul.