Raindrops empty the heavy heads
The brains become crystal
Thoughts are transparent

A shell trumpet honking, you record the process
One after another comes out white snakes from a sky hole
Songs attack, dusk blossoms beneath coconut trees

White stones heap into mausoleum
An eagle is hovering on green hills
A person can ascend or descend after death
but the pace is no longer his own

The shining lens catch sight of soul
The way of endorsement changes again and again
A knife licking wounds
you are suddenly emptied by chill

South wind tastes wine drops with its tongue
Religion makes those humiliated and oppressed
no longer feel so

你已经穷尽深夜
睡眠在你的枕上醒着
任何按部就班
对于一个在心里数数的人来说
还能够添加救赎的因素吗？

你想起某部经书
打火机燃亮的火苗
在读到扉页第一行时闪现
焚烧在你眸中进行
然后向下、向内迅速扩散
直到回音簇拥
你在幽深的肚腹举着火把

然而，探险的经历
在于吃不准药量
你虽知自己病痛的陷坑
时刻等待着口中健康的宣言
但是，不等到最后发生
你是不会接受经验教训的
轮回，地球旋转
在童年滚铁环时就暗示过你
不也只能按奈住性子
苦苦等到你成年吗？

由是观之，春天的花粉
跟你脸上粉刺的暗通款曲
难道非要等到换季
才能昭然若揭
凸显出季节的症状吗？

That is your familiar ferry
The sound of a ship enters the petals of sunlight smashed by wind
The time on bird wings
is flying away like water drops

The childhood still circumrotates along the shore
The sand of the past rushes toward you
The audiences and you gaze at one another
You step down from the ship ladder
with snow spots on the temples

The leaf blown away by wind
brings back more leaves
The story turns to yellow from green after repetition
flashing in the light by the window　
The seed has grown into a tree with human face
The road runs out of the screen, the root crosses beneath the sea
connecting to the farther places

For the coming of a moment
all the dismay wrapped by dark clouds
the dream that wakes up from a shell
the eye wave from a surf
are never dried by the wind of time

Those scars of stars
we can never see
only imaging that the world beyond us is beautiful
and believing that what cannot be seen is most certain
and feeling that our bodies are blossoming and ripening
then preparing for the inscriptions on a stele
with music, sigh, and metaphor

这小小篮里的五饼二鱼
如何能保持原有数量
而喂饱五千名饥饿的人？
你分析一个神迹
希望看到更多的神迹

五饼的基数当然是五
但每一数字长出的尾巴
可以变得无比冗长
于是，五饼中的任意一饼
突然间膨胀起来
任饿极了的五千人撕咬

那两条小鱼也是这样
能在瞬间变成飘着肉香的鱼城
相当于商纣王的肉林酒池
更新了人们的饮食观
你游山玩水，但不能吃下
比你大得多的山山水水

于是五饼二鱼
在喂饱五千人之后
还剩下许多碎屑
装满了十二个篮子
其间的数字关系
如果你不相信神迹
永远也不会明白

你希望时间也能这样
每一分秒
现在就开始长尾巴
这样，案头上的五分钟
就能喂饱五千页书稿
还剩下一些碎屑
可装满整整一个书架

而你自己的每一分钟
也成了时光的压缩饼干
足以支撑你活满五百年
就像一首歌里唱到的
向天再借五百年
至于五百年之后
要视时间碎屑还剩下多少

Piano is not for strumming
The smooth step-by-step-down
or a burst of mudslides
always have been side by side siblings

The coal burn out the night
The dawn emerges from the dark, soft and weak
like the damped hearts of chocolate biscuits

Not every day can erect
neither the hope of fingertips touching the dark
nor the motivation of daylight march

The gurgling of mud in swamp
has nothing to do with your empty stomach
but you cannot see the silent sink

There can be no word in a song
the uttered “ah” alone
can express the ship in stormy waves

The baton of lightning
flurries in the thunder and the wind and rain
The so-called curtain’s fall, is the rise of heavenly canopy

A dense mass of spectators
the faces are blocked with head down
The added coals continue burning

无论如何被剥夺
哪怕身无一物
只剩下最原始的肉身
你仍然拥有自己的影子
时刻伴随着你，不离不弃

拉长就成了一根绳子
虽然比电线杆短
但对于传播电流来说
已经显得足够了
可以接通天空的闪电
可以直抵地下的幽灵

有了影子
就能更好地理解前世
理解整个家族的承传
是如何在你出生之前
用话语和摩挲搭建平台
架起从原始洞穴
到街市文明的跳板

再再不济
也能成为别人抓不住的尾巴
成为敏锐的雷达、
光滑柔软的平衡木
使你既不能挺翘尾巴
也不会有自卑感

它像一条游鱼紧跟你
无论你是不是坚定的潮汐

We heap wheat stack to highness
Each wheat straw hides a story
The fragrance of wheat mixes with salty sweat
Awn of wheat gets into our memory

The sun of the day, the moon of the night
The wheat stack constantly changes the color
like a island floating on blue sea
My wheat stack is bearing the hope of childhood in a dream

Oh my village, I am back, riding a canoe of dream
I watch the blossom of broad beans in the filed
The pyramid of wheat stack is inclined to bury me

Time melts into sand; the painting of my preexistence opens up
The dense sound dances on the thin hair of straw
This life brought by a gust is covered with dust

静下来你就听见心跳
隔着法兰绒衣衫
从柔软的起伏
辨别出一列奔驰的火车

车身碾扎铁轨的轰隆
穿过幽黑隧道的沉闷
男人对着手机的沙哑
孩子的尖叫
甚至一只苹果从小桌落地
都听得真真切切

你熟悉这列火车
不仅对车身脾性了如指掌
还对列车之外的故事，比如
在一个小城站台发生的，类似
沃伦斯基和安娜. 卡列尼娜的初遇
彼此搜索又急切闪开的眼神

列车入站，如一条蛇酣睡
车中人拖着疲惫的身躯回到家
月光下的花园掠过松鼠的影子
门前林荫道流淌着一条河
河中人机械地日复一日
浪花总在自言自语

有一天你听着心跳
列车倏然消失
留在那里的是一张圆桌
桌上一瓶白玫瑰飘着香味
你贴近耳朵，听出轻微的发生
夜风中谁伸出一双手
不动声色地剥开月亮的果皮

On the street of last year
a voice steps on the sorrow of moonlight
Tonight, in the memory of a candle
water and fire stretch the wheat awn at the same time

The scenes in front and back of stairs
simultaneously taken in by different eyes
The night melts
The coffee pours into a white cup
The moon slides
A cube of sugar added to black coffee

The mood freshly sewn up
is snipped by the twitter of dawn
and deduced to two mono colors or two persons
One is setting free of the morning light from hands
The other is holding the shadow of bed

An apple and a pear bite each other
spit out the other’s seed
We seamlessly enter into each other
but have to get out eventually
After a big loop we are still
the separated Yin and Yang
firmly black and white

无论你如何纵马千里
抬手奋力挥鞭
使无数美景伏于蹄前
也终究会落马
被时光的沙尘悄悄掩埋

岁月的演示需要掩饰
这不仅因为它们是同音词
更因为如果缺乏内敛
许多元素就没有空间落脚
比如崇高，比如纯美

那么，你从岁月抽身出来
肯定不是为了让我们目睹：
那曾被认为永远挺立的
竟然如此轻易
就被一场大火强行推倒

有时你觉得
不语的父亲就像不语的神灵
所不同的是，父亲的缄默
比神灵的缄默更固执
更容易走失，而且一去不返
回来的，只是最后的日子里
难得冒出的几句话
仿佛一些装在瓶子里的声音

一只白鹤穿过桔黄的叶雨
你默默看着一个亡灵
如何在自己心里
一针一线地编结思念

此时闪现于眸中的
是向日葵放大了的雏菊
是天使手杖下的星星
在深蓝的夜滚动铁环