厨房顶上
嘀嗒的雨已进入尾声
你想象淀粉和雨水调和
稀释的浓稠，证明了
大众媒体意识形态的辩论
是多么苍白。其实
黄昏的晚餐只有一种观点
再佐以一杯红葡萄酒
至于体制内营养，如不说
你永远无法得知
黄昏常常陷入青春期
一时辨不清，田里茁壮的
是高粱还是玉米
一片泛黄的叶子
只须从叶纹择路出发
就能够再度风光
风流随时可以回头
审视当年的正确与否
对现在来说是否仍有意义
但毕竟是黄昏了
也许只为了挽救自尊心
也许只是想证明
一些话说出口之后
就有可能遇到冰海沉船
这时没有岸，也没有救援
完全不同于童年游戏
自从长大以后
就一直是玩真的
在现实中，发生可以是一回事
诠释可以是另一回事
The concert of pebbles
garlands the liberal theology of a river
until the sight of boat trackers’ back
disappears in the prolonged final sound
The burden of existence returns to the river
but the notes stamped by bare feet
are unable to be erased from the heart
The dignified painting on the wall
is calling its brother silently
The Song of Volga Boatman
emerges history from the shadow of our fathers
but it never irrigates
the spirit of the next generation
The new language barrier
is not that the salt of snow statue will melt
but that the open area of a metaphor
has too many fists in which the veins appear
Confronting a surprised face
you see the haggard familiarity
The low door hung with red peppers
The history of dirt wall disappearing
Only today’s pale remains
because the history is modified
In order to satisfy today’s truth
it is necessary to prove a historical heritage
For some people
gray ordinary Sundays
shine brilliantly due to an oratorio
For others
just lying inside a fruit of sun
sleep, to return to the original start
and prepare for Monday’s footsteps of trackers
The symphony gradually slows down
The ship turns around on deep sea
The distance from rivers to the sea
you will cover with your entire life
The harvest may be a net
or may be a statue
Can interest and sublime be coincided
or alternately carry through
starting from a letter of indulgence?
森林如何囱直，枝叶
如何浓得喷出绿烟
草地就如何清新
它们的表达方式成正比
就是说，是你回到夏天
还是夏天回到你
叙述的是同一个故事
只需耳边响起女声合唱
轻曼的弦乐渐渐跟上来
就看到了斜飞的阳光
也看到了踟躅的月光
轻轻敲响小木屋的门
歌声打开的葬礼
阳光的洪水淹没了花圈
帷幕断开，一分为二
现在，各方说话的声音
过去与现在的声音
你与我的声音
生命与死亡的声音
都被放大，清晰可听
季节从小提琴的一根弦
走出岔路，与另一根弦重合
冬天曾将夏天关在室内囚禁
夏天曾将冬天拒绝于室外
现在，它们两相调解
或是轮番出现于舞台
或是同台，加入混声合唱
歌声抵达古希腊的人羊合唱
悲剧的诞生跟酒神有关
跟父亲的土地有关
现在轮到男声浑厚的重唱
树叶冒烟成型的阴影
坚定成了冬天的顶梁柱
终场的大合唱启幕
男声的大海冲浪
与女声的蝴蝶采花
色块稀释，音符融化
全部进入大森林的舞台
燃起阳光和月光
记忆的松鼠穿梭其间
夏天与冬天，过去和现在
终于不分季节，不辨你我
What needed to enter a role of holding breath in a drama
How do you know the departure when strayed into the emptiness
Black birds stand on a wire
Your eye shears
cutting the wire without any explanation
The ink is pouring out to draw in the sky
The dream breaks, fragrance remains on lips and teeth
The fire in chest still hot, suddenly
rocks burst out of the piano
Then the twilight moonlight glows
vaguely outlining of a man’s back
So quiet you can pick up a needle
Here and now
you will not hear the watchman’s clapper
Clothes rustle on bed
Beyond the fifth watch
the dawn is no longer chilly
You want to find out
what happened at the moment of
losing consciousness and trail
That time you barely heard
but felt a faint sound
like an airplane through the clouds
However, you could not too arbitrary to say
the sound was often rare for Great Music
Only within the scope of phenomenology
case by case, sound by sound
A white light of trumpet rises
The shadow of a man in cello disappears
逆时针渐进，可是
一种自说自话的回忆？
积厚的坚冰融化了
一滴一滴地转圈
直抵结冰之前的液态
存在的内蕴
总是含着前世的生存
所谓的抄后路
是从结果迈开碎步
破零而出
从相反方向回到自己
这不是一种同义反复
而是反刍之后
对理所当然之物
进一步消化
在品味中发现遗漏的意义
可以从正面趋向春天
也可以从反面走近春天
如同一个人
被时间定义成老者
被心态定义为年轻人
糖在一杯咖啡的杯底
悄然化尽
那个人回 到冷却的残杯
最后一口餟饮
才猛然发现这甜意
Moss slips
A masked man exposes pale teeth
The bird of wind twitters under eaves
The wet road
would lead to whose tongue today
An anonymous song is barely audible
You wander in a dream riding a bicycle
Blueberries of rain get into a basket
Willow branches knot, inextricable
Began to plot from early morning
tracking how the dusk fall
The hot youth
is hard to tell, which is the sun
which is charcoal fire, which is tinker
Afternoon, the song half sung
suddenly opens its crystal eyes
In the garden of swimsuit
who may coach you
the sutra of erotic fitness
While at the midpoint of life
encountering love is the fate
encountering storm is also the fate
The earth has enough tan complexion
May you cherish the summer afterheat
stand by your fall
If an apple is green
it would turn to red in sunset
hanging between your eyebrows
光线的暖流
一波一波地登岸
我在青草坟墓等你
在日光的骨灰中等你
你的眸子露珠滚动
从一朵勿忘我花凝视我
我在心的湿地准备好花圈
黎明的星星眨眼不定
其实，相会地点不是问题
可以在风中，在脚步中
在眼睫毛的倏跳中
在一个词与另一个词的互动中
在案前的低眉里
在如诉如泣的松涛里
相遇没有何时之问
关上的门实际上虚掩着
你随时可以来
我随时可以去
无论丢失了什么
无论是因缘的肉身
岁月五音盒中的珍珠眼泪
还是丝绢滑软的记忆
都不必过分忧惧，毕竟
剩下的还有淡香的梦，还有希冀
You think of the sea on your birthday
The seawater of time splits
You walk through the narrow channel
Your body is composed of water
The water is slowly draining out
Your head emerges from the snail shell of water drop
The surrounding laughter raises spindrift
The boat will not return to the tree of hunting
You are no longer the raging fire
Voyage, leading to a white island
Clouds look like the cream of cake
The carmine sunset
makes your birthday card
The shadow beside the card
is caught by your glimpse
The flashlight beam of eyes
not sure how long it can resist the dark
Your mood at slopes of the sea
makes some thrilling actions
The wave of your heart, slowly raises the shadow of island
It can be said, this is a sort of mature
In the prairie of sea
you are a lost sheep
The big black bear of night
is forcing you toward the small island
Age does not measure
the distance between you and the island
Anything could happen
Happiness could reverse
Suffering could become a blessing
To the north of sunshine is not necessarily the shadow
Separation by distance, could make you fear
but also give you the mystery, imagination, and sweetness
If possible, you would choose
not to be born
But now it is not the case
then, try to be as calm as the sea
Accept the sunshine, also accept the rain
And be prepared, finally board on that white island
你一生都有羊的烙印
从初生的咩咩欢叫
到经年的成熟
你，如一阵轻风卷地
在野花星点的草上奋蹄
鼓胀着强健的三头肌
你的本性是柔和的
像一个心地纯真的孩子
对照出这个世界
无数的宰杀和陷阱
你对世俗标准始终说不
当相遇于四月的祭坛
你信心一跃，毫不犹豫
将自己全然摆上
然后双目紧闭
将准备过无数次的彩排
再做一遍，深知这一次
是最后一次了
你听见浑厚悲壮的颂歌
从牧者的天空溢出
有海螺低沉的男声部
和白丝绢飘逸的女声部
歌声连同你的祈祷声
如燔祭之后的青烟
从十字架缓缓上升，滴着血
退去坟墓的躯壳
你重生，身轻如魂
Early wet violet leaf
Whose sword with a red tassel
splits the long night
On April path, no lad approaching
Until many years later memory recalls
there was a flower stem broken
A vivid pink face, under the wall
on the ground after rain, standing as
a silent pyramid
Along that curved path
my eyes were locked in your tower
In that damp cold weather
how I wished to pick up
your bowknot washed away by rain
However, I remained motionless
Your story had touched me
Have you so decisively
broken through the curfew posted by the big cold gray wall?
April’s eyes are soft, like sparkling on the waves
You bowed, dancing at leisure
in the shadow of the wall, opened an umbrella, a smiling book
with a quick glance, in a page
I discovered Shiva dancer, the scarlet beauty spot between the eyebrows
Were there a need to repeatedly emphasize
the wind of May would come, that
young man you have been waiting for so long
would come? Tell me, tonight
how many times have you had this Cinderella Dream?