Chapter 5 Book Five: Poets and Death
one
who is who
whose strong fingers
break the daffodils of this winter
Let the white juice overflow
Emerald green, light white stems?
who is who
whose mighty fist
smash this elegant ancient bottle
let the juice of life
squirting his chest
daffodils wilt
bride disillusioned
It is the palm that creates life
He asked for the unfinished song back.
two
song not sung
unfinished dream
peek at me from the clouds
Flying like a migratory bird to the confusion
Here the frenzy is beginning
Not like a dinosaur
History is lost in the rush
spring won't come easily
Take away the notes you didn't sing
Take away your unfinished dreams
the other side of the sky, the other side of the earth
there is already a long queue
With the truth that has been washed
Continue our story.
three
Winter is mocking our sorrow
The bloody wind will eat up our hope
The dead are long gone, the heels of the living
exploring the long road
Icaras ride the wind
The wry smiles in the memories of mothers
It's solid tears that condense in the clouds
From innocence in the cradle to screams in dreams
No honey can live without a bee sting
you're old, lonely, wandering
like your midnight lights
Your pen has not finished writing the bitter words
Accompanying you is the hurricane of the desert
The yellow sand flooded the doors and windows in early spring.
Four
those doubting eyes
watching the sunset behind the clouds
full of fantasy and innocence
reluctantly clouded by death
those doubting eyes
always unwilling to admit the darkness
Even through the shadow of death
Accompany the corpse of a friend in distress
I don't know why I always refuse
down from the cloud
admit the cruelty of life
I don't know why I always refuse
admit the falsity of fantasy
the unforgiveness of life
Fives
I'd rather it be a rainstorm and thunder
When the world is screaming and crying
Take this leaf away, tear it apart, fly into the dark
Instead of this indifferent misunderstanding and fault
Let a green leaf still full of business
was unintentionally picked off and dropped into
Eliminate the weeds and ditches on the roadside
No trace, not even the waterfowl trembled
The absurd trick of fate
selected this passion
write its cruel humor
Black web of winter trees in rain and snow
Confused, indifferent, quiet
Belief in spring, devout but blind.
six
Open up your fantasies, my friend
It's like a vast sea
You take off your faded clothes and get wrinkled
skin, soaked in dark blue death
This place is not worth your attachment, busy and noisy
I just want to push you with my hand
The anger in the eyes cannot erupt
Closed lips, spring also forgets to sing
narrow, narrow space
We are in the blind corridor
Walking up and down, unable to open the prison window
Evening birds fly back to the woods to rest
The waiting soul hangs its wings
Hypnosis casts death moonlight from the sky
seven
right hand stroking left hand
A strange feeling called loneliness
There was a poet struggling to keep watch
The garden of his mind is at the end of spring.
Time scrolling to the frame is approaching step by step
Only the right hand caresses the left hand
Everything disappears suddenly, dead still
The ebb tide of life does not listen to your persuasion
Spin like the wind to sweep up some fallen leaves
ridiculed by winter
the curse that followed
Still clinging to the corpse
Said no hate, no yelling
Beautiful answer: just too busy with work.
Eight
Winter is the season to appreciate dead trees
They cut the azure into pieces with ink pens
No amount of geometry can be dismembered
That great blue is only for the joy of art
Wonderful shattering, innumerable twigs
You have been experiencing the shock of life all your life
Your figure once swayed among the corpses
singer's death wrings your lamentation
The final silence breaks again
From your brittle black twigs
that great blue overwhelms you
Its spray is the falling leaves of life
Behind your lost life there is only the tide
You run to nothingness in a blue embrace
Nine
What rises from our feet is not loess
It's bright green
Sea water solicitously washes the coral
Its white bones are carefree
Your sixty-ninth winter is over
You are patiently waiting for an electric fire
Come put the last verse you've been thinking about all your life
Inscribed on your white bones
No matter what rolling dark clouds appear in the sky again
they can't hurt you
You've taken away all fragility of flesh
The blooming flame will suck you up with a dance
all beautiful china
So leave behind the unthankful strange flowers
ten
we are all flamingos
Stepping on the red flame for life
Through hell, burn the flyover
No groans of loss
Yet we envy the flamingos
Find sweet water in the grass
Over the grass there is a boundless sky
They will suddenly take off, their bright red thin feet drooping
The crazy sloth bear was also in the dream
take off
turn over
but like a crappy acrobatic hero
perish
silent
eleven
Winter is over, is happiness really not far away?
Your death ends your sixty-ninth winter
Crazy Shelley had delusional Zephyr
Brutal reality drives away, blows away.
After the death of winter it is still winter, still
It's winter, endless winter
This morning you made me believe that pestering
Unclear debt collectors, at my door every day
we burned your remnants
But that's not enough
thousands of years of debt
broke the bank maybe
and burn your poems
Fill the crematorium with greed
twelve
no orpheus with his lyre
go there and find you
He thought it was you who used your poetry
come here to find him
Your day is the night here
where your pain disappears
without a trace, leaves
Whisper happily, the nightingale needn't hide
you no longer open your eyes
but saw never seen
magical scene
A lover's pocket doesn't hold love
The judge's gavel was stolen
The hearing was therefore postponed indefinitely.
Thirteen
In this tunnel that Orpheus walked
You get this thirteenth poem, you
Painful and angry, hate this omen
ominous traces that mean passage
However, this is really the negative of the passport
If you face it to the sun
The black is your face
your hair is transparent
You're dazed wondering if everything here is
upside down
Your luggage needs to be re-scaled
But the ghosts tell you not to deceive yourself
Now you're turning the upside down again
The world has never weighed you seriously
fourteen
You walked through the mountain trail
Suddenly came to a forest
The world immediately became a black hole
absorbed by a grain of sand
Goddess of Libra
show you the new chart
measure words for astronomical numbers
leaving you in astonishment
The world was just a chicken intestine
Winding around and smelling stinky
stuffed with silt and looted indigestion
Only when you are completely kicked out of the gut
Come to the forgotten lake where the pollution is washed away
Only by approaching the dazzling brilliance of the celestial bodies
fifteen
Those who weep for you should
weeping themselves that for your death
angry people can't blame god
Death follows, a furtive shadow
You have many unfulfilled wishes like silk
If we can weave a clear sky...
But the black cloud will not let go of your meditation
Thunderburst hits from the sky
Your ideal is just a swaying cobweb
Thousands of years no one has woven
A sweet dream for thousands of years
Only out of the square of the altar
Leaving Athens and the ancient cities of Egypt
Don't forget to bring your night lantern.
sixteen
In May, the skin tells me the existence of the sun
Very tender, not violent yet
I close my eyes and pretend I don't know who's running
Procrastination is a strategy of all brains here
The bones are feeling the raw moisture
It's been two months since I left the crematorium
The polluted atmosphere doesn't even give up
The incomplete picked up from the furnace
maybe should wash again and again
with flames,
incinerate
There are no sandalwood graves here
There is no sprinkling of the beauty of roses, roses, orchids
Only the silent mourners sprinkled clouds of distress.
seventeen
eyes are frozen lotus ponds
The running water has dried up, my 69th winter
Standing on the edge of death and sending death away
There is a caravan of camels migrating to a country that no one knows
Grapes of joy will not rush to ask the end
The mellow red wine has also forgotten the root cause
Only the notes are united into a chorus
Maybe it's anger, maybe it's tenderness
The whole is but a composition of fragments
Fragments are reorganized to produce a new whole
The short-sighted craftsman thought that the ultimate
Close your eyes and let your limbs stretch across the ground
Alternation of Silkworms and Pupas, Caterpillars and Butterflies
It is this "self" that sprinkles on the lake and mountains like rain
eighteen
they use the aurora knife of time
cutting in our bodies
White brain lines cannot be erased
videotapes, our audio cassettes
crushed, escape the piercing song
crazy poet holding a bloodied heart
to meet god or the devil
They're all stars anyway
kick a heart to the center
use it to shoot
Good to remember that fatal point
cheer like the wind in the wild
run through drops of blood
The poet's heart enters the net, that is the tomb.
nineteen
When the old masquerades as new
covering the sky above
Attached to ugly old cortex
fear of newborn pain
Today, the balloon that empties the air
Old Skin clings to my body
Its former life has smuggled away
Aquatic it is my painful death
with my unclosed eyes
projected into the distance
There is the beauty of the Northern Lights
poet, your last silence
like a silent aurora
Play more freely than we do.
peel peck, peel peck, peel peck,
You are the woodpecker on the old tree,
lingering in my silent heart
You know there are cowardly bugs hiding here
See how obediently I spread my limbs
Shock, hit, hit,
Like a tsunami, the sea waves are swept up
Running towards the high cliff
every cold rejection
The blood that stirs the sea more
silence, silence, silence,
Like a tree silently abandoning its lush greenery
Endure darkness and compression under the crust
Only when the pain penetrates the body deeply
Only the soul can burn and spit out light and power.
lift up, lift up forever, his legs
Running through this painful world like water that won't stay
With that painless posture, the pain has long since fallen asleep,
In time, those who still stand
He is the embodiment of the stoicism of this ancient land.
Who is racing against him?
death, death, it wants to embrace
The marathon runner of this life.
If he loses, he is captured by death
If he wins, he won't hear the song
A breeze blows over the ocean, saying
it's a shameful miracle
And so, old glory
Became: a disgrace to science.
Storms in the sky, unevenness on the ground
The direction of departure early, the path of return at night
He cannot predict nor design
His answer was just unbreakable silence
The passerby's hope dominates him
his hopes were thrown aside
A person who has lost his purpose lives for someone else's purpose
only when terminated each time
He stretched out his dirty hand panting
(Reflect, reflect, I beseech you:
Clean blood flows beneath these filthy skins
Dirty blood drips from those clean fingers
What is our shame?
That filthy blood, or that filthy hand? )
He draws you with his hungry feet
Paths to thousands of different goals
(After thousands of goals are met, you can join
To figure out a path also for that smothering his purpose? )
(That ain't no, ain't no
it has become the prayer of all
Now waiting in the distant haze
It needs all our hands, all our feet
Whether hungry or satisfied, to uproot
The overgrown weeds made a smooth path. )
lift up, lift up forever, his legs
Running, a long road that lasts with life
In the cold wind, in the rain of hunger, in the thunder of death
Lift up, always up, his legs.
that came lightly to their hearts
not an arrow,
that is reckless;
Nor is it a sailing ship,
that's too late
But a warm boast,
like in the snow
An old man blows on his dying ashes;
in the spring night
God blows on the darkened earth;
Before happiness comes.
what is needed is
Such a seriousness and kindness.
So that, like the leaking of visions,
They are amazed by praise,
you imagine a building like
Condensed in the mystery of the moonlit night,
They can't hear the voices of each other's hearts
like holding each other's hands
Standing in front of a falling waterfall
Only through the tiny mist
Seeing each other's blurred faces.
Behind them forests are deserted cities
Feeding the residents with that special demeanor
The gloom that runs through it is the breath of the wind
Where the night has no light to tear, they
Is to endure a life, more cold fear
This permeates the tough veins, and circulates in the salty
in blood until they are melancholy
eyes reflect the loneliness of the whole wilderness
You are ashamed of your narrowness and change,
Words leave only thought, knowledge brings
Prejudice, might as well let the rough wind blow
and unmerciful cold to spur
Then poured into the clumsy form
The freshness and intensity of a life.
Spring Summer Autumn Winter
I cover my ears, cover my eyes
Know not the flying bird, and its song,
And the lush flowers and trees and the breeze in between
My stone whispers to me: still, still, still
I chisel, chisel, touch, grind
in the haze of dawn
in the shadows of dusk
I silently gaze at the white feet of the play of light and shadow on the stone surface
Contemplating the subtle undulations of stone veins
So one day, I used my wisdom to see
A beautiful statue, she sleeps,
Close her eyes and wait for a humble hand
A pious heart, come to break the blockage of marble
welcome her from the cold hidden world
In front of you under the sunshine
Spring Summer Autumn Winter
How many times have I covered my ears, covered my eyes
For me the stone is saying to me: still, still
When I start working, I retreat into a world of solitude
There are no flowers that wither, no singing that ends
When work is done, I'll be back among you
Here my image will grow your life
It's not abandonment,
is a temporary separation
Said to awaken life from lifelessness
the devotion and silence he needs
make him forget for a moment his own life
The river that swirls and boils for a limited time
I have not deserted you, if there were
Just because I'm going to stay between you forever.
(The Dying Gaul)
He seemed to fall suddenly, in
Before the arches of death, still with one arm
Supporting the body that collapsed like a mountain,
The strong sense of life is gathering
Like a brow covered by a gloomy cloud,
Ah, here, the dying Gaul thinks
The last thought in my life, drink
With bitter wine, sipping alone to the cup of death
Though you see on his bowed forehead
Life is still flying with bright wings
But what has begun must grow
The setting sun emits its last brilliance
However, the distant mountains
His limbs have sunk into darkness.
Rembrandt: Young Girl at an Open Half-door*
Graceful are the shoulders that fade into shadow,
and the chest that locks the rich orchard
Only the face of radiance is like the sudden appearance of a dream
It echoed the long and slender hand resting on the low door.
From the tree of the calendar, the river of time carried away another fallen leaf
Half-down eyes, enigmatic, exuding dizzy silence
Unchanging calmness is also a hurry for a limited life
In a chance twilight, she throws this long-lived glimpse into the changing world.
Note: This poem is about a painting called "Young Woman at the Door" by the Dutch painter Rembrandt.
Expectations Buried in the Jinyu Pagoda
From my hazy heart: come out, come out
Willow buds are probing, goose yellow
why you locked time inside the pyramid
Let the light of the candle shine into the land of death and silence
golden book
Every page records the plan
but never realized
just soothed my heart
I close this door
Gently, without disturbing the dust
just tomb
Already stolen.
we go swimming every day
swim to the unknown
continents and islands like columbus
we go swimming every day
an incomprehensible book
What has been dissolved begins to fall to dust
life is the book
its incomprehensible
let us not be satisfied
future forever
we swim to it every day
Just chart your own course.
History is the diary of countless voyages
There is the same sentence:
The joy of life is in the unresolved.
lilacs outside the window
Spraying incense frantically
The flower shadow cut the window
Clivia in the window
leisurely draw out
Long dark green leaves, meditation.
Childhood the day before yesterday
sprinkled with a river of fine water
golden glitter
today's twilight years
with its starlight
flow to the far tomorrow
sitting marks on the yellow sofa
Tea stains on a cup with white and blue flowers
Only the footsteps of time leave no footprints
it has come out of this silent living room
disappear out the door, put an end to it
I listened blankly, but there was no sound of the door.
It is a steel frame, an iron frame, the trunk does not move
Only the whirling of broken leaves and fine feathers
birds flying around
Draw a trail with charcoal
Who hasn't had a time like this?
Only no mallard can drink up the blue sea
that's full
Leave quietly, no one knows where it flew to.
How many ride cranes into the clouds to look for you
How many staring at the distant mountains waiting for you
How much is your faintness beyond
The pursuit of the soul, the search in the dream
From the first breath of earthly breath
to run wildly on the highway
Until the sunset slowly steps over the peak
The pine tree shows its ageless trunk
Your grapes make a purple syrup
The roses are no longer rushing to send fragrance
One quiet night I heard
Dirt calls.Questions Answered
Laughing and exclaiming come and go like the wind
where winter has forgotten that he is
Tall palm among blooming crabapple bushes
become childlike innocence waving feathers
After writing, I came here, dragging a black and white dress
Flying into the palace on the top of the tree also has the sound of waves
Lift up your silver hair and surround the poet's hut
Somebody wrote a psalm here maybe the waves remember
Unseen on the open sea is
The soul that sails don't believe this
Touchable rocks that seal countless
The secrets that have passed are all dissolved in the wind and waves.
Even if there is half a day of red clouds
Nor can it warm the vast expanse of the Western Mountains
Even if there are stars all night
Nor did it illuminate the roughness of the mountain path
It is now before the frost
Half down the lotus pond, but still
baby-like globules
entrusted in
unwilling to resign
on round leaves, still
the one that rolls
The heart of poetry that can hear ghosts crying. *
*Note: Poet D once wrote "Ghosts Cry in the Forest".
- to LT
one
Esoteric theory, Derrida's fantasy
used to attract me so much but today
Your figure keeps walking into my study
I can't help but think deeply, and gradually...
A deep purple curtain fell
An old dyed black jacket
An untidy red scarf is in
chest grievance plain
only mother knows about your depression
In order not to be praised by relatives, friends and neighbors
plant a haughty emptiness
Your toys are full of disabilities
The excessive splendor of the morning does not guarantee
The setting sun completes the schedule with strong steps
two
There is always you in the garden of my memory
Childhood cannot bloom like my rose
Too long dark blue trouser legs do not damage dignity
You kick the stones on the side of the road to meet the dark future
Confusion never leaves your eyes
Smiles are as rare as sunshine in the forest
your waiting is so serious
Absorb your growth in the years
While I was busy, I suddenly found that the small tree grew taller
Its long arms reach out to my window
Strongly tapped with tree trunks and green leaves
Announcing that a tenacious little mind has emerged
Finally heard the call of the ocean without hesitation
You turn around, wave your hand, and disappear in a hurry, a whale returning to the sea
three
Fate bestows reunion in the busiest
Airport - New York.on the way home
You have repeatedly lost your way and turned the wrong way
Wrong way What makes you sad?
time grows teeth time is correction fluid
it gnawed away your childhood twigs
In the bewildered eyes, the kindness of a child
Innocence and sincerity in the haze
It's midnight to your fortress
She is a weeping willow attached to the river
Breathe softly in the arms of a young sleeping
I know how you run on a magnetic field
All this makes us forget the hard work of planting
When I climbed to the top of the mountain, I saw a piece of green Xinxin.