Yuan

现在，时间开始加速度
浸透少年的番茄汁更酸了
嫉妒自己和嫉妒别人
都在迅速加入过去

如果你从未亲眼感受海伦
读到这一段希腊传说时
会对战争的智慧更感兴趣
而忽视了海伦的文化底蕴

海伦的名字对于我们
只能尽义务为一种谈资
与你自定义的文明人有关
甚至与你的职业有关
即使屋檐下夜色染黑冰凌
你坐在哔啵的壁炉旁
也不会说：我仍在等你

除非她已经匿名
然后内化于年轻时的恋人
你才会把那个小岛的微风当成真的
甚至当成一阵脚步，一缕呼吸
一袭熏香，一曲细雨的温馨

关于她与另一个她
以及更多的她
比如保尔的冬妮亚
比如牛虻的琼玛
使你实在难以分清
哪些是你的阅读体验
哪些是你的真实经历

I am the sea whose waves travel the world
I am the water in waters
I drink up the light and shadow from the cup of sky
My wet skin twinkles on the surface
Wind calls on my name
The horse of white waves carries me
crossing the great mountains of night

There is the white spire of church at my uproarious street fair
There will be the sound of the evening bell of temple on my silent reef
I breathe the wheat field to be reaped
The golden wheat awns stand on my body

I pave my doorway steps crystal
I brew my mood blue
I play and sing in front of the score made of coralline
I have my eyes open all the time
But before entering your castle of heart
you cannot see me

I step on light, strolling on bare foot
Along with me is
the passion of weeds in bubbles
the dream born from shell
and the youth decorated with colorful jellyfish

Wind opens my window
My pebbles are smooth and lubricious
I am rough north and tender south
Poplar trees and palm trees
dance one after another in the shadow of my wave

My toes are covered with white gown of surf
rustling on your sand beach
The words on my lips are drooping wine
I will not be aground but will care
if you accept me fervidly
or reject me coldly

I will lick your wound with music
I will bring salty alga
and golden bread of sunlight
rolling them out on your shining table
only expecting you, deep at heart
to feed my shoal with gentle moonlight

重返一个地方是残酷的
但诱因却是美丽的
伊甸园以多种方式出现
故乡，故国，故人
惯常在多棱镜中变形变景
记忆不断从一个深坑
跳入另一个深坑

现在想来，你所有的经历
无非是出走，漫游，回归
无非是岁月的大河
一条鱼朝着某一点的趋近
想要换一种方式进行

总是有多种不同的组合
但一旦选择，就走上不归路
即使你有意停止脚步
水波仍然在流，有声或无声
而你坚信的方舟
是否仍然栩栩如梦？

给你一个渔夫的故事
你是否会把鱼线甩进皱纹
将鱼钩，变成心灵的问号
而将自己，变成岁月的鱼饵？

艳红的朝霞一转身
你就看到黄昏的剪影
那么，回归就成了一场演习
其实际的功效
仅仅发生在回归
真真实实的抵达之前

Sitting is not Zazen, but to
experience Plato’s cave metaphor
to take a look at
how the fire burns its own shadow
how the idol of the cave is formed
and what its relationship with Theater Idol

Darkness does not come from hell
In the cave, hell is deposed
However, one thing is unsure
if the black is the shadow of hell
Morpheus who lures Faust
also, wears in black

Shadows gather outside the cave
forming a larger shadow
The empty jug of the cave
is darker than night and more empty
Did it ever have water?
When did the water get dried?
These are some of the questions

You hear the sound of water gurgling
as if something is re-returning
This familiar strangeness, like
the entity that changes its name
In the cave, that is just a hallucination

When a lantern is blacked it becomes a cave
The point of the black hole of the sun
in a meditator’s opinion, is just
a certain point of ellipsis
The remaining points
only through the meditation of cave
can really be seen

The mind that is looking for cave
is formed to be a cave by the cave
Is this just to prove
everything has not to be looked from outside
all is contained in the inner secrets?

Long been abandoned crown
experiencing the process of thesis, antithesis, and synthesis
is being re-crowned

走进树林
树干上刀的印痕
刻着狩猎的野性呼唤
折断的树枝像一根手指
暮色开始青筋膨胀
我想到血，想到愈合的伤口
想到伏树祈祷的少女

长满苔藓的树根钻出地面
青蛇盘旋，向着溪水爬行
我没有退路，走回自己
在纵横的红河畔徘徊
外部和内部，面面相觑

树叶哗哗作响
风声的话语很轻
树上的果子开始变形
马头，牛头，鸟头，豹头
纷纷拨开枝叶，朝我吐舌露齿

我听不清它们说的话
也不知道它们的形象本身
对我隐喻着什么，预示着什么
否则，我也会写一部神曲
从树根之下，一直写到
树巅笔尖下的黎明

这不是但丁迷路的黑森林
没有指路的维吉尔
也没有以昔日恋人命名的
引领人飞升的仙女

我始终是在自言自语
我是我自己的森林

Oh, time
Please stick to every day’s bottom line
Please construct a bridge in the lost river
and build a road in the trackless wild

Please roar on the back of a gorgeous tiger
brighten the lights on the wings of fireflies
Let the rain walk through the South
while the Northern birch holding an umbrella

The rain threads in fish ponds
the needle weaves the curtain of Crystal Cave
The debt is always connected to tomorrow
so we shall live a good life today

If no one to share
then enjoy a glass of wine all by yourself
Use a feather duster to gently flick away
the toil of today, as well as
the dust oozing from the crystal heart

山林奔涌
夜黑吐出焦味
火的红鸟在山上飞

白烟升腾
女巫们穿着小红鞋
热烘烘从山上走下来

天书的卷轴打开
在关于末日的章节
模糊不清的一段黑字
被几道红笔划线

梦中的一场山火
从黑烟的水里
翻腾起一条红鲤鱼
咬断你的鱼线
将你拖入水中

你不由自主
吐出一圈圈红泡泡
清晨醒来点数时
只剩下一个太阳
仿佛从未有开始
也从未有结束

Burning remains in a messy room
A car chugs away downstairs
A cello joins the song by the horn
The reflective hallway floor is long
On the soft-soled shoes a shadow is distinct

Excavating in the dry river bed
At empty crossroads
looking for something from nothing
looking for the feeling of seeking, footsteps
become more energetic, more purposeful

The flute of melodious memories
delivers years-old breeze
At that time, you were wandering
on the wet streets and gray cement floor
The gale outstretched its sharp claws
scratching your apple-greened chest

There are no intentions to hang around with old symbols
The sun hopes for consolation and
meets the jingle of a cold iron door
Returning to origins is always an imagination
a metaphysical regression
or a private flight by air
A bee returns to the original flower
only to brew honey from another

But never say it is all completely distorted
never say goodbye or farewell
Simply say there is still a long way
The smooth corridor in the hotel
does not represent a road outside
Between this door and that door
between this heart and that heart
all is sealed

时间久了你就会承认
追踪大于随众
天音富于弹性的碎步
不是鱼群的广场舞
只有当海浪成山
你才能真正理解排山倒海

现在是第二乐章慢板
一切复归于宁静
期待成为自然
可以想象童年的磨坊
迟缓绕过弯弯小河
电影开始的时候
大多数人坐在银幕正面
你坐在反面

写诗的人常说
不是人写诗，是诗写人
套用此句型，还可以说
不是人磨墨写字
是字披一身墨衣写人

还可以说，某件事
是附身的神灵所为
自己不过借其一副皮囊
一双并非木偶的手脚

至于如何证伪
如何区别异化与化异
仍然只能套用老话：
凡此可意会，不可言传

在经验意识流河边
我们言说的前人已说
但我们的开口
总是留有自己的唾沫味
或者古龙香水味

Life often changes due to an unexpected event
Maybe a yellow chicken laying eggs
will not get your attention
but a yellow balloon drifting in sight
you must not miss this opportunity

An old century
the egg hatched is an opportunity
You often crack out of the shell
gaining a new life every time
In the last days
you stand on the beach watching the sunset
thinking of yourself at what time
and what space to once again break the shell

A word rolls in your heart
like a bee buzzing flying
the motive to find flowers
is attached to the motive of next time and space
maybe from another word
maybe out of the flowers themselves

The flower bud specifies the nature of bees
What defines your nature
Your nature and the nature of bees
are overlapped in which aspect

This is the task for a word
Not only rolls together with its comrades
heaping a big snowball
but also rolls together with strangers
Not try to find a common ground and leave the difference
rather seeking both common ground and difference

Words combinations, connections, and clusters
Broken words can hold integrity, the integrity of a word can be broken
Those opening up the situation may be the words
also may be the opportunity of non-word’s words

You surf in a word
nervous and proud