Yuan

新月的第一天
像一块刚开垦的处女地
想收获什么就种什么
又像一件洗净的棉织衣
散发出淡雅的香味
静静等候你梳洗更衣

时间每一刻都是新的
重复的是我们的体态
我们移动的位置
我们身上的汗味和腐味

时间清洗我们
我们不断地整洁
不断地污秽
不断被时间切割
变成多时态的实体位格

我们不断忏悔
又不断地犯错误
新月第一天我们是洁净的
虽然只是片刻的感觉，也
总比尘垢在心里吞云吐雾
遮住青山的信念要好

如果你错过了新年第一天
仍可以用新月第一天去补救

The orange-colored leaves
carpet the terrace quietly
in the wind’s knocking
Your letter comes late
I understand, every leaf’s mature
is the negation of mature itself

The fluid of your full emotion
along the veins of life
flows smoothly and deeply
One says you have crossed the Yangtze River
Another says you have crossed the Pacific Ocean
The door casts its heavy eyes
on the words of leaves combination

The time embroidered on leaf veins
like feather flies in my eyes
In which book that tender sparkling leaf
has become a bookmark?
We cheers each other remotely
raising the cup of sunset light
toasting the whole past

Roses with thorns
flowers and leaves long lying in soil
only thorn has left
The expectation of bank has become
the memory of water
In undulating waves of time
we row a tiny boat
The waves subside, we are grounded
becoming shells

Whose sigh
is playing zither alone in the wind?
Lost memories automatically come back
riding a skinny horse
into your
deciduous forests

语音的织网
往往跟在鱼汛后面
宣告新一轮钩子
无非是强调语言的新用法
尖锐，锋利，钩沉
但不一定，处处勾魂

作为艺术，还是作为工具？
语势的平衡在于自信
并非只有湖面的镜子
才能照出存在的碰触点
入夜之后
黎明无时不在准备自己

在万般不适中
你感到太阳脱臼
手心的钉子随雨抛撒
缓慢的钢琴声赶不上雨步
你铺纸沉思
听见烧红的烙铁
在一个奴隶背上的吱吱声

存在的连接充满极化
关系的赤裸
在于一来一去的同义反复
当你赏花，花并不赏你
通过颠倒，历史成了当下
当下成了循规蹈矩
你下笔千言，其实一言可蔽之

The eve of golden falls
Hangs on your shady cliff
Let my blood flow under your eyes
Let the night wave a soft blanket
Gently hold my beating heart rolling from the Sun

Will experience deep but nontransparent days
Will arrive at a silent shore of stars, where sands wait for
being swept away
My sigh lives in a song of wave
Longing for entering your closed cabin

Bearing the heavy March I cannot stop my steps
My string plays the rain of night and mud of dawn
The eyesight flowing from a cold window cannot heat the stones
They chime in my mild melancholy melody

The waiting heart is an arrow off bowl
Running wildly for a secrete word
For being at a long forgotten field
Sowing seeds, outgrowing wheat

太经常的经常
赤裸的感觉
就穿上厚厚的衣裳
麻木和遮羞成了一回事
御寒倒是被放在第二位了

极端地言及变化
从一个长着雀斑的男孩
变成一个皮肤白皙的少女
小提琴的颤音里
袭来一阵阵苹果味的风
使人对最初的夏娃心生怜悯

夜空长一身黑黑的茸毛
时间的盈余塞满星光
岁月蒸发后
你不再是一座大山
而是畏缩成泥石俱下的土坡
对每一分光阴流失斤斤计较

汁液饱满的黑莓
被不断抽空，成了一具干尸
一个面无表情的词
一部荧光冷艳的手机
吐出数码的烟圈
被你吸入肺叶
在那里建立起一个王国

Other than sunshine, who will come?
But outside the window, weather suddenly has changed
The Blonde you used to see did not appear
Wind and rain sweep across the street
pounding on windows heavily
A boy anxiously entering the room
would not think of what is happening inside

The tide must be rising on the shore
Today, have to give up the plan to lighthouse
Let the boat stay at sand
counting the stories of the past
On the tower, opening the thick curtain
you don’t have the courage to break away from self

Now, must directly face up to
the pitter-patter of wind and rain on the door
No wonder, their eye sight is always drifting
Her skin is clove, is charming chrysanthemum
Her eyes are pure blue of sky at noon
That weather, you have taken for granted
thus no longer appreciate, and treat it as a maid
Only when you lose her
you then realize the loss

You begin to catch on the backgrounds of changing things
But you, can never paint the passed beauty on canvas
That light and warmth do not belong to a rainy day
The rain is still dripping outside window
There comes out warm sweat from your palm
All of these, you have no control

在一根弦上宣告自己的死
春蚕的余丝尚未吐尽
乐思蜿蜒前行
绕过崖边悬石伸出的拇指

弦上擦出的火狐
欢跳着，从前世到今生
从一个情思到另一个情思
怀着对一个人的记忆：
那个与你连体的另一段
被奏出的
不时被杂音打断的肉身

死亡的种子
在日志之前就发芽了
这生来具有的白玉
上面刻着的篆体字
只在最后时刻才释放意义
对其载体来说或正逢其时
对你来说，则太晚了
那些错过的永不回头

弦抖跳时，就凸现
用一根竹扁担挑起生存重负
沿着窄长石阶登山的人
旋律变调时，弦的缓步
在一条河的流水中冒出鱼眼

这一切看似与你无关，其实不然
就像一颗闲置的纽扣
其轮回的实体，需要进入空
与之连体，才能释放
言之不尽道之不明的生境

On the riverside
there are flower shade and red petals on ground
The water is clear, the streaming-away past
is like waterweed looking back, flowing and pausing

In the tone of insects, the rhyme of autumn’s steps
darken the burning red of summer
The farewell of phoenix tree
combs the pigtail of wind
Silence, yet clear in heart
The thing that ought to happen will eventually happen

In the evening, who will
step into this transparent scenery?
Neither green butterfly, nor red dragonfly
but an orange leaf
wrapped by a sudden gray memory
into running water, the wave holds up
another layer of life

Think of remote Veda
Think of dust on the road at noon
The woman knitting on balcony
The mother tongue sliding from pinpoint, the mind
walking between balcony and room
back and forth silently

While a thread of passion, still ties to riverside
Five fingers of autumn
press on the keys of music instrument of the Earth
forcefully and simultaneously, producing chords
Any type of feeling at this moment
is no longer simple

如果改变视频色素
将红黄蓝绿悉数抽出
只剩下黑白色，就像你
一脚踏入往事的黑白电影

眼前虽然仍有引诱
但毕竟比七彩世界少得多
也单调得多，了不起
开辟黑白之间的灰色地带
放心让人培植第三势力

一个桃色的一瞥
在那里可以不起作用
一面挟太阳以令万物的赤旗
已经被处理成阴阳合一
使有些人期待的刺刀见红
再也难以发生

这与其说是防御力变化
不如说是辨别力变化
箭不在弦上的神经
自然对兵工事业缺乏兴趣
而对家具生意满怀热情

在黑白世界，有人活得更笃实
因为黑白分明
也就不用挖空心思选择颜色
生活成了非黑即白的简单之事
至于色彩丰富与否
难道还能压过生存第一原理吗

Pipe and string flush tides of night
With crossed hands and finger tips trembling
a familiar song comes from the other end of time
Moonlight flops on the road of string, like orchid blossom

Body is like a wine glass immersing the drunk feeling
Street light pole is like a candleholder uplifted by a slender arm
The light and moonlight look each other for long
The thin loneliness in shadow no longer exists tonight

Cheers, there are tears in water and water in wine
and crystal salt in tears
The eye expression in wine is the bud that never freezes

Start your steps, swirl out spring from a dance music
Repeat an old word again and again
The burning dawn sings in your eyes