Home Categories Poetry and Opera Poets of Nine Leaves - Selected Poems of Zheng Min

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.
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