Yuan 预备三餐
用竹筷和瓷碗
这些洪水中的船与帆
能保证你安然抵达岸
饭粒凝紧又散开
菜叶的绿色
最后一页不忍卒读
纷乱的脚步
奔向肠胃幽暗的大厅
春天被夏天吞噬
父母被你一点一点
咬嗜，吮吸
从第一声啼哭
到你决定离乡闯荡
他们丰盛的河水
在河床萎缩
他们森林的山谷
开始显出黄土色
当你狼吞虎咽，他们
隐隐约约的影子
在饭桌的碗盘里出现
但是你没有看见
直至他们消失
吃什么就成为什么
这用不着立遗嘱
正如你去教堂
总会听见一个声音：
你们要吃我的肉
喝我的血，成为我
The image of hole gets into my dream
The night is dark
The entrance is black
In the dim bottom of the hole
a white bed stands
Mist humidly sticks to the bed
Silence mysteriously surrounds the bed
Firewood serves as mattresses
laying flat on the bed
The one lying in bed meditating the difference between the
inside and outside of the hole
is me
The one breathing the air given and wishing to share
is me
The sound of midnight wind enters the window
gently shaking me awake
There is no way to tell if I am
in the room of whirling window shadow
or in the hole with the moon shadow reflecting on the wall
A little boat
is lying quietly in a silent river
Night is being sliced
Hole is a void
Yet, it conceives entity
I walk down along the stairs
in silence
starting to count from the first conscience
to the conscience of Alaya
The seed of thousand years in my chest
grows out a Buddha every day
Then it is almost dawn
Someone with a thick wooden cross
blocks the hole
My heart sinks to the bottom
The firewood catches a fire at once
burning wildly
In the throbbing, the hole
forcefully pushes me out
I crash through the wooden cross
emerging into the world soaked in redness
looking upwards right away
the sun is above the head
rising a symbolic pattern
The hole turns to red from black
在水里，火团
最终消解了焦渴
化作一条金鱼
钻入河流的内部
她的软融化了你
你沉浮在她的柔波
汗水溅起的雨粒
带着咸涩的劳苦
爬满你的背
悄悄躲在你的眉下
泪珠和汗珠
此时已难以辨别
生命如是，与性别无关
日光金色的羽毛
遮盖不住苦杯里的酒
笑靥里包藏的
也许与蘸着酒的鹅管
写出来的表情有关
它们映在酒中
被酒染成血
钻进百叶窗缝隙的光线
从一种金色变成另一种金色
路灯下，时间的蛾子在飞
它们抚摸着石雕的唇
然后开始吮吸汁液
无论你是肉身还是石身
对它们来说 都是一样
月亮在音乐中照见你骨髓
一群挤在门口的忧伤
那些没有入门的
纷纷拉紧月光的银线
你把忧伤存放在乐声里
目送它们飞起来
去远方寻找伙伴
当你重新回到水
只看见波纹，看不见烟
火用水的嘴唇对你说话
一滴水珠变成汗珠
The reserves in a song
are much more than you think
When they run out, temporarily forgotten
time will quietly charge them
via an unexpected visit
bringing you new surprises
Only an encounter of heart with heart
those happily crying lights slag with fission
the crystal sugar grains
would melt to your mood
feeding your expression
At this point, the release of others
quickly transforms into the release of “you”
and is enlarged with the release
A peacock spreads its feathers for you alone
although in front of other listeners
nothing has ever happened
After being infiltrated
you would find an endless reveal
The manuscripts in the drawer shine waves
The resurrected inspiration is an invisible boat
the paper sheets raise white sails, memory crosses water
You stand at side by the ship, tasting
the flavor after years of sedimentation
A group of cranes come down
and transform into paper cranes
They are folded by you into seagulls
flying in a rough sea
In a piece of string music
the heartstring is your own
but the fingers plucking the string are not yours
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