Chapter 4 Volume Four: Yuxiang's Words
Who said it was black?
eyes are deceiving
their transparent torso loops
Spring blood, red.
Who said they were bald?
old man tottering on street corner
they are full of baby babbles
Hidden full of green, gushing out every second
The excitement of the birds, bouncing and turning their heads
Takes off suddenly, grinds its beak hard
Why are people shaking their heads?
Only children and poets see all this
When the tree has not yet awakened from hibernation.
It is not loess that surges up to the chest
The tide is reclaiming the empty shells
night black sea
and pale moon
direct night flight to
the other side that will not reach
What am I waiting for?
haven't let go
Let go and wait:
a fish, a pigeon
greed annoys me
I don't know what else to wear
What kind of tea to make, welcome
Master, Fate, and the Summoner
His presence needless to say
maybe the most beautiful
Always silent.
oblivion, burial of consciousness
she came out of the grave in spring
The stolen Persephone
surfaced
land again
today, when half awake
The dormitory is filled with twilight haze
she visits
i touch
the loneliness in the depths of the soul
my ghost chases out
she has drifted away
take everything away
clouds, birds, trees, flowers and laughter
I was still young at that time
soul and body
in an empty room
flow under the ceiling
evening glow, golden sunset
Squirt lifts and tourists
Glimpses the portrait in the mirror
Heads of countless geometric shapes
salvaged from the deep sea
still with ancient times
A demeanor left by chance.
The volcano has been extinguished.
Sha Tin, December 1990
When the sunset of Mona
� and those torn by it
� Pieces of blue sky
from the narrow west window
into the dark hut
what can separate
me and that
flooded by sunlight
� Boundless and bottomless
universe?
yesterday's little wildflowers
opened another flower
dark light yellow six petals
around a brown heart
heart sinking added
how mysterious
what can separate
me and it,
it's deep
A flirt who doesn't want to show off?
Sha Tin, December 1990
Dawn walks through the window, footsteps
Awaken countless birds in limbs
The river flows quietly
in the bath
Lie on your back on soft water
deep blue
someone?nobody?
Phantom flows across another river
Appears only to those special eyes.
Sha Tin, December 1990
night lily in a bottle tell me
dusk is approaching
bursts of fragrance
with the darkening sky
let me stop and listen
words of lily
repeating wishes every night
Knowing that it's just a short-lived fragrance
But always invites the footsteps of dusk
Then darkness surrounded her
when the moon shines on them
it's dead of night
Only the inspired night sky
sprinkle moist dew
Liming says goodbye again and again
footsteps gradually go away
Snow-white lilies sway in the breeze
no longer count time
no more waiting, no more anxiety
fall into a deep sleep that won't wake up
Like a dream, it has no volume
leave the world in the mist
Today, the mountain came out
� extra blue
� extraordinarily close
right in front of my long window
Show every pleat and stripe
I seem to be able to stroke its back
like a loving cat
reluctant sky after rain
smeared on canvas
gray, orange, yellow light
The sea suddenly turned green.
imagine waiting window
ancients waiting for friends
Looking at the sea between the two mountains
Just waiting for the tiny sampan in the distance
ups and downs
in the waves
promised
a precious afternoon
drink on pillow
Listen to the wind in the gorge
Although, only
passing moment
in downtown
throwing knowing glances at each other
Disappeared in misty rain again.
Sha Tin, January 8, 1991
If there is no negation of the cloud
Where are the green onions of the mountains?
A few days of misty rain and fog
dissipated.cloud, cloud
long short feet
climb up from behind the saddle
One step, one group, one piece is walking
Conquering the mountain's high
After the clouds pass, the mountains disappear
After the procession, the mountain
regain ground
with amazing curves
showing pale green spikes
gray sky again
negation is only woven into elegant
surrounded by long white yarn
ethereal shifting dress
If there is no play of clouds
Where is the condensation of mountains
vigorous,
Trion...
Sha Tin in 1991
One gloomy and sweltering August morning
The dead come in from the garden
Holding yellow, orange-red, dark purple, and snow-white roses
and unrestrained honeysuckle branches
it says
Realized after living seventy years
real gems
fake gems look real
A game of indiscernibility
Coming to an end.
You've been struggling between two whirlpools
between two colliding plates
The tsunami, the earthquake,
It all happens in a peaceful shell.
The universe offers black space
stars shine in the dark
Free rotation
History fills time with flesh and death
Two vortices collide when they are tangent
abandon each other
One should be at ease like a bird
Fragrant like love
Swing the carving knife at random like lightning
cut the sky into pieces
The other should use itself as the center of the circle
circle your kingdom
Weigh people's souls with their own scales
Designing rise and fall, survival and death
Examining the laws of the ant kingdom
Longing for the arrival of the century of Changle
Can't abandon the scaffolding of reality
struggling between two whirlpools
you realize one morning
The breeding ground of human beings is the innocence of children
repeating the naive fallacy
until knowledge regrets its cleverness
Because real gems seem fake
fake gems look real
rest in peace
smart stupid
soul will get
its due freedom
Once we get out of this mystery of true and false
Time is the high-speed rail
Open a true and false amusement park.
From then on in that unpredictable cloud
You are bathed in the twilight of the setting sun
soaring freely
in the darkness of space
Your feathers shine like stars
In the summer of 1990, Shi was reading "Writing and Difference"
anger:
because of innocence and peace
become a tool of deceit
look down and see
yourself in the hands of a magician
spread your wings
Only the attitude of flying
he finally let you fly away
but only in
Before the next show.
(Words are often treated as things in dreams...--Freud)
silky, silky
like a love that has passed through half a century
youth under the gray morning sky
Stop and go, stop and go
Mixed in the richness of white hosta
Black silk trousers are entangled with rose branches
The black nylon umbrella emits a depressing feeling
The endless blue sky of Kunming under the umbrella
and its lonesome goshawk hovering
won't leave.From rose to honeysuckle
Various aromas and raindrops collected
I can't bear to take them with me
into that strange gloom, where
An emptiness that no one knows sinks, though outside
drizzle of rain
Still going down, stop, down, down...
In August 1990 in Tsinghua University, when I was reading Derrida's "Writing and Diversity", I was touched by Freud's words and wrote this poem.
Through the glass window, closed, seeping in
A dark cloud flows in the room, under the ceiling
The leaves are falling like rain
Bury my flesh, with its unquenched fire
A white dove flies out of the dead body
It looks at the incomplete ugly wall from high above
It flew thousands of miles and landed on
under the bodhi tree
Hungry thought: Is there a roof
A square, a church steeple, can accept
Drifting rain clouds.
A child stretches out a tender palm
let it peck the kernels of corn
It thought of the body buried under the fallen leaves.
April 25, 1990
Though the sky sees all the wonders of flight
Can really fly, from yesterday to tomorrow
only imagination and memory
Their wings are lighter than feathers and harder than steel
when i got your card at the end of 1989
I saw you in 1986
standing in an apartment elevator
Our supper is a homeless feast
Just before the elevator doors close
We bid farewell, you have a bewildered expression
I have the bitterness that only Chinese can have
and strong waiting, hope, friendship
It's dark, cold, unsafe in New York outside
Not making people transparent this fall
Although the leaves are as golden
We sent away another beauty in memory
The dryness of winter invades our minds
The desert still has a menacing beauty
we're done taking on greatness
to the winter desert
The animals hide quietly in the cave
Stomach motility to endure hunger
only brave sparrows
fly out to spy
Find some groves in the snow
Nobody knows next year's harvest
When I went to read poetry, I was shocked by such lines
"Like an old blind man who raises the curtains and realizes that the morning
I know the changes:
no smile on the silent side
But when I breathe with the birds
angry spirit transformed into blessing
The dead begin to sing to my sleep from the darkness. "**
He also said:
"I let my sighs extend into songs
But like a tree bears the transformation of things. "***
Nothing compares to the following line
It makes me want to tell you:
"Growing old, I cry sometimes
But still laughing in the dream"****
Like the people sent to the abyss by Dante
we sometimes come out of the fog
to poets and friends
speak the words soaked in fog
Our levitation makes our few words
With the wind blowing to you, my friends far away
Goodbye, remember the chances we had
Goodbye, we've been swallowed by the fog, bye bye
* Rosenthal, a famous American poetic theorist and professor of poet at New York University, once visited China.
** Rydke, Journey to the Outback.
*** Rydke "Becoming New".
**** Rydke The Other.