不同的小兽在你心里吼叫
用形状、声音、皮色的重叠
组成一个五花斑斓的世界
铺盖，混声，此起彼伏
一顶帽子戴在不同的铃声上
七个小矮人肩扛七个音符
开始了一场组字比赛
你的心思无法不牵动岁月的南北朝
在流水浑浊的江岸
兽齿亮出的白旗和兽尾拖长的黑夜
交替在摇摆不定的渡口
涛声里月亮圆熟了
在你眸中的湖泊无声淌水
而你不得不退回
敏感的年龄面对激流是危险的
你的座右铭会莫名其妙滑坡
穿衣镜变成天文望远镜
虽不情愿，你仍会扮演一次嫦娥
为期待心理整合的人提供安慰
首音和尾音彼此追逐
像一只猫狂追自己的尾巴
发出兴奋难耐的尖叫
而以光年计算
你尚未完成文化符号就躺倒了
当铃声再起的时候
眼前出现巴甫洛夫的狗
条件反射地在你心里分泌唾液
Led by the name of a place
a nightwalker of daylight
along the coffee’s wakened pulse
The matured fruit juice sweetens in blood
No matter how a road is to be taken
at the end, the road still leads to itself
Shaping square or circle, the fixed point has four corners
each one can be self justified
The mature is always relative
It can be measured by dreamless rationality
and be decorated by lintels of dream as well
At the edge of a trash cabin
lay a dog-eared Anna Karenina
Is it implying
the reader has given up looking for the railway track
Checking emails, online videoing
The fairy on the phone
after witnessing countless insomnia
gingerly bypasses the minefield
The caller says the code signal as usual
but the content of the code
is sound asleep somewhere unknown
In the steadiness of one’s walk
one reveals his mental state
indicating he is heading for autumn or spring
一滑至底。波涌
溅起一千零一朵浪花
不规则地跌宕，眩晕
无缝地胀破日夜
时光下意识地投标
面团被揉软，发酵拉长
一条白色蚯蚓从黑土钻出
变成光柱，然后无限切分
在一个细腻得发颤的高音区
甩出一把银针
刺向记忆的不同穴位
云中浮现消失多年的人
灰蒙蒙的老房子
提着铅壶一次次浇水
始终不改容颜的红蔷薇
无论当年带给你的
是欢乐还是痛苦
都无法被时间抹去
而成为体内的一部分
不以你的忧喜为转移
不因生死改变颜色
打蜡的弦上童年在飞奔
看不见的琴弓
娴熟地联奏不同岁月的故事
一千零一夜毛发直立
每一个毛孔
都曾经是散发着体味的旧居
倾听
只要倾听
就一定能够听出什么
无论何时何地
也无论何种心境
即使没有手机
你也能随时被接通
与冥冥中的隐身者对话
下雨的时候
你能够听出酸甜的果汁
滴涌一只透明的玻璃杯
你会觉得疑雾散去
脓肿的泥潭
飞出翅翼轻盈的钢琴声
逝去的每一个昼夜
都是连心的十指
弹奏生命幻想曲的黑白键
如果没有那样的小岛
如果没有那样一座小岛
比如高更的塔希提岛
比如叶芝的茵尼斯弗利岛
或者不一定是小岛
只是一个湖
比如梭罗的瓦尔登湖
比如施笃姆的茵梦湖
甚至也不是湖
只是安妮的绿山墙
如果没有那样一个地方
你会觉得身处异乡
虽然一生从未出远门
宅屋窗明几净，杯盏交错
但总觉得缺少了什么
那个地方其实并不远
一本书和一段音乐
就引你入岛上的花园
一眨眼就能听见
薰衣草和马蹄莲的故事
她们如何被一道灵犀之光
变成紫衣仙女和白衣仙女
在琴弦的沙沙夜雨中
你久旱的心田油然润透
冒出绿茸茸的希望
如果没有那样一座小岛
你会四处寻找
去天内和天外，去书中
去音乐的大海
找，就一定能找到
Humanity is repeatedly mocked
The door cannot be opened
The endlessly squandered desires
are locked firmly in the door
while the skin is making a show outside the door
A deer finds a way out
The sword of moonlight points to Ganges
The forest is revenged by staggering hard liquor
A serious illness recovers in a gust of wind
The remaining are tears
anointing the moon bay with a thin layer of wax
Deep in the river
the days of yore swim like shadows of fish
Overdrawing tomorrow has become a habit
The season stepping on the stairs
never worries about the excessive consumption
The village of bat has black hairs on head
The tree outside the window reclines like a broom
You are watching a scene of silent film
But the expected characters in that play
has yet come on the stage
The phone rings
but no one picks it up
From a place far, far away
wafts the whisper of wheat-pile in the countryside
第三路基
是奠于一个词
武断定义的二级谋杀吗？
如此，纸面蒸发的冤魂
会不会在一个暴风雨之夜
突然闯入你淋湿的梦呢？
不到深处，就不会发现
思想总是和衣而睡
一向裸露的钢铁逻辑
照样需要抵御寒冷
就像概念僵化的冬季
经过一场冷水浴之后
急需要干毛巾暖身
在一气呵成的连环套中
如果午后原谅午前多云
午前原谅黎明的暧昧
那么黎明
也肯定会原谅夜半阵雨
那么，就谅解时光的暗器
如此精准地击中目标
姑且称她是无心而为吧
那么，就抚慰所有
不幸遭遇伤残的生灵吧
如果生活是一场游戏
一环紧扣一环的科学态度
还会那么在乎
一个人落霞时的妄想症吗？
A word shakes its head exultingly
but only gloats within a defined range
One person casts a spell against another person
but the targeted just shrugs it off
The caster is embarrassed
Once an esoteric handbook is decoded
It will automatically lose its magic
Just as a person’s weapon
should not be lent to others
You believe in something
others may not do the same
Keep your eyes in focus
Smoke rises from the paper
Then it bursts into flames
This process may not be seen by others
They only see you in the sermon
skillfully using language
But they want to know
how you manage it
This is a lengthy process
demanding the test of time
A word can only express itself
and does not represent any person
This is why repentance and prayer
take place in a private chamber
一身丰满的饭粒
拒绝从墙上跳下来
它融入白墙的努力
刚一冒头就被发现
它如何上墙可存而不论
墙缝当然挤不出饭粒
像挤出一段雪白的牙膏
墙也不需要它喂饱
但对其体贴予以肯定
虽然夜幕会遮盖
人们对饭粒的种种猜测
爱墙和恨墙的人
仍能够利用饭粒事件
深化对墙的拥戴或批评
墙竖在那儿
如果只看新闻的横截面
怎知哪一边是在体制内
哪一边是在体制外？
更无从得知饭粒的命运
是被蚂蚁搬走
还是风干改回身份
重新成为米粒
而枉此一生
Tiles are smashed, stems are broken
Droplets grow out salt flowers
Coachman of memory is out of breath
hastily reloading
If there were no past Eden
how could religions be possible
Changing scene is pegged
Rusty nail is moaning and spinning
too late to pull out from the past story
In firelight of ritual
it doesn’t matter who is the protagonist
The thing you care about is outside the firelight
Taking two steps away, you see a tree
Going farther, you see a river
A small fish flopping in your heart
You look for a way out inside the belly of a big fish
Sitting in a Buddhist’s chant
playing the guitar and singing a new song:
No matter wherever the fate takes me
I will go, and I will obey
The wind is blowing, the birds flying
Birds cannot become the wind
The wind can levitate into birds
Incarnation
In the tomb-like room
You stretch your arms to open the window
wanting to imitate a bird
and turn into a gust of wind
and incarnate in Tao
橄榄树在心里沉睡
连同寻找树的日子
你总是怀疑
岁月灰白的树干背后
是否躲着同一个人
夏天嫉妒秋天
改朝换代者
有时会与民生息
对于树枝的剑舞
不担心叶荫举起反旗
古典时代
深蓝尼袍上缀着铜纽扣
星星和烛光是一回事
最亮的就是最富有的
龙骑兵这个词
轻易就迷住一个少年
但萤火虫并不羡慕太阳
统辖的世界虽小
却也活得十分光鲜
艳遇常打着灯笼出现
眼睫毛的针叶
闪动于蓝湖荡漾的左岸
再朝上就看见头皮的高地
一个消息在发间搜索地雷
然后引爆自己
Snow points to the road of white hair
Time melts into water
We raise cups, water turning into wine
The empty pottery jar of art
will not be filled with rice
Golden beach and blue sea
the mermaid changes all our lives
Someone counts a string of beads
repeatedly murmurs life is suffering
But whether to rub salt in the wound
or spread olive oil
or smear honey
the outcome will be very different
Oars slap the water
A boat cruises on the vast
We sit in the boat
If there were no shore
the transcendence we boast
will be so transient
A stone falls into a well
smashing the moon
But the screams are not from the moon
The place you stand at
determines how you think
You cannot say the hand is a tree branch
and nor can you say once someone jumps into the well
he will become the person in the moon
This is nothing like a bird
for a favorite target
bumps to death on a transparent glass wall
Rationality puts the mock away
Such purity makes you obsessed
and let you shed tears
A group of bats fly out of a cave
like blood from the wound
You are unable to stop that, and it is difficult to trace
the bottom of a dark cave that comes from the heart
Snow points to the road of white hair
We live in words
hearing the wind in snow
Two skewed rows of footprints lead to the outside of the cave