Chapter 3 Volume 3: Poetry, I Found You Again (1979-1989)
--Poetry, I found you again
Bist Du bei mir, Gehich mit Freuden...
Green, green, Liu Si trembling,
It is the transparent thin wings in early spring, passing over the branches.
Why people can't see her,
Where are you, lithe elf?where?
"Here, in your heart." She replied softly.
Oh, didn't I bury you? !Poetry, when the autumn wind is bleak,
The grass is withered, the leaves are falling, my pen is broken,
I carry you to the moors, hillsides,
where I buried my beloved,
Looking back, wiping my tears, I only saw the hunger of wild dogs.
They pile rubbish on your grave, moldy and stinking,
Sun and rain, but the earth embraces, digests and absorbs you.
A gust of wind blows away the winter clouds, and the spring rains,
Green, green, Liu Si trembling,
It is the transparent thin wings passing over the branches in early spring.
My limbs are soaked in the spring cold, and I walk in the drizzle,
Across the fields, to her grave,
Suddenly, softly, so softly,
Oh where are you?where?I look around,
"Here it is, my dear, in your heart."
From the rubbish, from the ruins, from the black loam,
Waking up, waking from sleep, the spring awakens you,
Softly, my love, stretching and yawning,
The sorrow left by the funeral, like the remains of the river,
The water and snow melted, the larks sang, and it sank into people's memory.
Oh, I found you again, my love, with tears in my eyes,
When I run forward and embrace you, only to see the smoke,
A wisp rises curlingly and disappears into the clear sky in an instant.
What? !What? !You... I can't see you anymore,
Thy wise eyes, joy in a moment,
Turned into grief, can't we be reunited?
Dirge, play it again, people come to cry.
But the grass on the ground asked softly:
Is she not here?Not in the spring green?
The light green of willow silk, the emerald green of pines...
I kiss the soil on your grave with joy.
Let my heart turn green, I found you again,
Where is the green spring,
you are everywhere
In my heart, you will always be in my heart.
Bist Du bei mir, Gehich mit Freuden...
If you are by my side, I will go happily...
Written in Beijing in 1979
dawn of august
Accompanied by the newly opened lotus,
time in doubt
Looking back, staying, and moving forward,
The earth is constantly spinning,
The petals move unseen,
budding and open,
The wind gently plays with the lotus
Blush in white,
at the reddish tip
Balanced with ideal and serenity,
only drops
Rolling on green leaves covered with silver velvet
Silver flows on the plate of jasper
sometimes
Brought by the wind to another jasper plate,
There was the sound of raindrops in the silence.
footsteps
Sucked up by the long grass on the path,
But a yellowish poplar leaf
Quietly flying and spinning,
floated down
The earth suddenly experienced
A silent shudder,
Time didn't stop,
autumn
has reached the treetops, but
lotus
still slowly stretching,
slowly open,
as if to say
Let each life complete its own course,
This is beauty.
when summer is gone
end of a movement
Although the green sleeves of summer
Has brushed across the grass, gone,
why not on the frame
Leaving behind the colorful colors of autumn,
and sparse and straight woods,
how many lives
The lotus that forgets time,
Although it is autumn,
Still unfurling its petals calmly,
Go through your own journey.
The lotus leaf that will eventually fail
hanging low in the water,
There are snow-white lotus root festivals.
Early Autumn 1982
The gray wind shakes the windows
Pour thousands of years of resentment at my window
I cry like a mother
If howling can bite the bondage of the heart
let it continue
how old is the tomb
how much resentment sinks
Wind is "energy"
crazy push windmill
this morning the sun said
It was all wrong yesterday, you see
How blue the sky is, ignore it
From today we only have sunny days
i stared at it strangely
The wind in my heart makes me dizzy
In winter, silkworm cocoons are weaving diligently.
A transparent palace of silk enveloped the city.
We are under the gray sky,
The creation of life is being carried out nervously.
On the overpass, time flows with a vortex,
Creeping life is slowly in sleepy eyes
Look for spring windows.
night falls,
The whole cocoon is transparent,
dark fire
burning in the prairie chest,
play on the forehead of the earth
Rubbing my frozen hands and feet,
From that cocoon wall, we will
Open the window to peep into the spring?
Oh, thinking of the days when I flapped my wings,
The whistling of the north wind became lovely,
It's a baby crying,
People listen:
expecting, anxiously waiting
The cocoon wall that was finally eaten through.
The ice of the moat melted,
wrinkled river surface
Reflecting sparse spring shadows.
a pair of peeping eyes
Concentrating on the flowing river.
There's a gaping mouth in my body
it's like a roaring lion
It rushed to the bridge of the river
Looking at the turbulence under the bridge
The ship slipping quietly through the bridge hole
It hears the roar of the times
like a roar in the forest
it looks back at me
Walking back into the cage of my body
The lion's golden hair is like sunlight
The elephant's roar is like a drum
Flower-like vitality came back to my body
The lion takes me to the bridge
there i go on a date
the river
black as lead
sink like lead
a white fish
struggling, rolling
her round arms
hold up high
bring out the dangerous river of lead
palm up
The transparent wings are flapping
resting spirit
lotus stem green
The snow-white lotus is shaking slightly
silver beads rolling in the long
On the plump lotus leaves of silvery hair
The whole background is jet black
heavy flight
Green in dark oil: growth.
Snow,
squeeze in
by the wind again
sweep out
so eager to cover
� Through the winter woods the gray snake's way,
its leaden face,
anxious car brushes by
� Winter Forest in the Fog
Note that it only remains
wide open mouth
twisted arm
praying gesture
silent cry
stinging ear
these silent
Notes black woods
we talked about childhood
traces in the snow
meandering follow
the track ahead,
plus our,
plus
behind us.
occasionally say a few words
Today's, Previously
Here, there.
Gray snake meandering in and out of the woods
snow is squeezing in
car drives home in dream
Dialogue emerges from chaotic waters
sank into the ocean again
The ups and downs of the gray back of the whale
childhood, boston, snow
woods come alive
more real part
But no sound came out.
bonfire
From smoke to jubilant flames
in someone else's life
find revived youth
stars in the sky
no longer reveal the magic of life
In the dark blue night sky
no longer appear
The boat of the future
late autumn
Every leaf has been green
again in the silent dawn
Stained red, brown, brown, ocher
Dissolving in the ups and downs of the deep mountains
burning his body
people who know how to love fallen leaves
It is no longer as white as a water lily
Autumn's ripe fruit, loneliness,
If someone turns over this boulder
What he will find is not emptiness and desert
but a strong desire, unattainable
wish, that boil under the earth's crust
Under the forehead of the volcano with its snow cap.
mature loneliness it's not
Those whirling green leaves, that refuse to let the green flow
Into the young leaves of the golden chasm.
brilliant lava
between us
is the turbulence in the abyss
Although the hand is a bridge,
Can't reach out to that rolling consciousness.
whirling dark air
Wrap your throat with dead gauze too
Where is that other me?
another you?Another him!
The substance of the universe is swept away
Not tightening the noose
she slipped away, let loose
in the red glow of a certain dawn
had a mysterious glimpse
in the looming light
disappear immediately into the ruthlessness of the morning
scattered clouds
From orange to dark red to off-white
holy not permanent
eternity is broken glass
Glitter in the flowing clouds
maybe in this corner
maybe in that corner
so good at games
The moon is getting really cold
Certainly no dew and young tears
Only loneliness exists and does not exist
or, non-existent real existence
it permeates the wind and the churning clouds
chasing after the unhappened
And people's footprints only stay
In the windless moon dust, in death.
Look for yourself and others in the mirror
Seeing many voices but no faces
The mirror dimmed and went out
No form was found, only many echoes
flow in the trees, in the sea, in the sky
You open the door, and you see that sitting in the
Long-gone relatives, teenage girls and children
You are walking in the busy city, but you hear lonely footsteps behind you
the footsteps that you once waited in the path of the woods
When you spin around, the noise of the city is like a black wave
engulfs you, and the eyes of the dead.
like the ebb and flow of the tide
and a visit from an unexpected visitor from afar
like a knock at night
because when you use careful hands
Close the door with a click
you know there's something locked out
Now she's knocking, knocking, knocking
She didn't grow old, let alone die
so no need to regenerate
She holds the ripe fruit of autumn
When I close my eyes, the door opens
The valley is full of lonely fog
wander like a ghost
fog, fog, fog
mature loneliness with wings
she cursed the moon dust
want to bury her ankles
that is a lifeless
A desolate world without mutation
Mature loneliness loves the mutant world
I have mature loneliness
To the crowd, in the tumultuous presence
listen to her soft breathing
That which does not exist fills you with imagination and confidence
If you turn over that lonely boulder
You glimpse the ever-present non-existence
like red lava
under the brow with the snow cap
Churning, swirling, thinking turbulence.
what is locked outside the door
she will come in as long as
You close your eyes and the door opens by itself.
I carry it in my pocket
mature loneliness
Walk in the world, a dervish.
(Published in the first issue of "Poetry Magazine" in 1989)
A flock of birds flies by the window
only see their shadows
dazzled by the cold sun
smeared on the wall of the brown building
Saibei's strong wind blows
Branches of locust tree stripped of clothes
Although this summer it smells of flesh
Snow-white skin with plump strings
full of branches, hanging down to the ground
but it's winter now
Who wants to be chained to the frozen earth?
In the dark winter, death is the torch
Many people think so.
roots stretching from afar
Underground passages that have gone through thousands of years
when i want to remove it
Good to plant brilliant flowers
I track, dig
until, jerk up
saw a beautiful tree
i use bloody fingers
symbol of warding off evil
i know i can't dig it
it is the mother of our graves
The bare feet of spring flash past the door
But she is not free
The grasses are humming in the ground
The canopy of the silk tree in front of my door is like a black silk screen
throw your shadow into the sky
But the sky is cold and indifferent
deception and truth
same glow
spring face
half crying, half laughing
someone fell into a swamp
Arms turn into black dead branches
Someone climbed the dazzling snow mountain
Lost under the cliff of the snow mountain
Anger at Chunyin
trigger an avalanche
buried false waiting,
Death may be the richest life.
floating in the chaotic liquid
Internal organs develop in pain
The beak feels the desire to attack
Wings like oars without water
crooked paws no mud plane
sudden light like atomic explosion
it limp on the mud
pink hairless body
accepting the brutal impact of life
winding wall
peeling paint door
refused to take to the street
Jujube trees turn their heads and call out to the countryside
twisted black branch
Extend the golden broken flowers to the small alley
The intoxicating aroma blocks the encroachment of the city
Confused Ancient City Night
Still reverberating deep in people's hearts
But my mother's wedding photos have faded
The naked body of the first boy has also disappeared
Storm, Frenzy, Twist
teaching tenderness and smiling
The beak feels the desire to attack
pecking through the alley gate
broke out
on trembling legs
stand up, fall down again
with half-closed eyes
look at the world full of explosions
noon as silent as midnight
people are asleep
sun
lost in its own light
Noon is the night of sound.
Alley between stone walls
Separate the sea from my building
turn these, suddenly
your body stretched before my eyes
A slightly trembling dark blue satin
Your snow-white fingers caress the sand
low gasp
only happy mother beast
licking my limbs like this
i walk into you
you fled to the distance again
But swinging the fluffy curls
call back to me
The suction of the ocean floor pulls you
you want me in hypnosis
into the depths of your unknown
sun like golden rain
on your quivering robes
blue satin robe
who would have thought
The cold darkness in the depths?
Yantai in the autumn of 1984
(Painted by the Italian painter Modigliani in 1917)
red hair
a burning dahlia
growing on black ground
The black velvet robe wrapped
autumn body, slippery
Half exposed shoulders, fat arms
and that which connects mind and body
slender, brown neck
The waist still lingers on the girl's years.
Deep black eyes
awakened consciousness
The Bewildered Hypnosis of the West at the Beginning of the Century
half-downcast gaze
Yet the eyelids are not slack
The disjointedness of time causes the disorder of texture.
as if feeling the large leaves of the plane tree
is hardening,
the sun is the dance after midnight
Dahlia and rose
This tireless dancer is still here
Sing, dance and shout like hell
However, Xia Tian is finally an abandoned rocket
The necklace hangs intermittently on the chest
beads, hopes, tears, amorous gaze
dripping from this chest
Wrapped in a black velvet robe
Autumn's body, while dahlias are still
Burning, fiery red hair.
from pink baby to
Rheumatic Elderly with Eagle's Claw Joints
She's looking at a half-open door of time
from there to
The calm night sky after the sunset glow fades away.
--Record of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Third Movement
"Oh, no noise!" said Beethoven*
Seek, seek, his soul seeks
Deaf music is suppressed
deep bottom
it's going to break out of the cold rock formations
It takes the whole imprisoned mind
burst out in the sun
under the cliff, on the sea
To penetrate into the hearts of millions
sunlight hovering over the treetops
to reach into
deep black lake bottom
moonlight trembling in the sky
to enter
sleepy body
darkness stuffed his ears
Deaf minds seek, seek
looking for a spewing mountain pass
impotent instrumental beats on the deaf door
not liberated
shackles of lava, lava
to pour, to erupt, to that
red liquid column
Squirt from beneath the crust of dark souls.
Once upon a time, the earth made musical instruments grow
Like spring bamboo shoots, put human expectations
One sentence to appeal to fate
However, no!
"Stop the noise!"
It's just the wind outside the church
did not blow to the depths of people's hearts
is the cry from behind the tombstone
Nothing can shock the footsteps of stepping on the grass of the tomb!
The muffled thunder on the distant mountain
did not bring downpours of rain
He still seeks, seeks, seeks...
What can embrace hundreds of millions of people?
stretch out the arm of the danube
Ignite Beidou's eyes
With hard lips closed like sea clams
To declare his love for men, his hatred for darkness
A plea for the future, a rage for blood.
Found it, found it:
Only singing, only words, words, words
Weaving the brocade of the soul with electro-optic
tilt in people's ears
The halls of hearing are full of joy
The torrent of "Ode to Joy" flows through every heart
Only singing can
Extract the plasma from the mountain
Pillar of fire unleashed, leaving the abyss behind
unstoppable river of fire
The long amber river reflects the white snow
devoured the green trees and villages
Spread the fertile dust all over the land
The fiery hooves of the red horse gallop across the green field
spend yourself in time
dead, silent
Volcano with big mouth left
towards the sky, waiting
wait
silent, gentle blue sky
after a few centuries
seen in a birth
lush forest
Under the snow mountain, what is buried is
deaf music,
the cry of the deaf saint
He searched, found and waited.
*Note: Beethoven wrote his greatest Ninth Symphony while completely deaf.When the music entered the third movement, according to Beethoven, he felt that no instrument could express the passion in his heart, because a baritone sang: "Stop these noises!" and then sang Schiele's "Ode to Joy".Before the beginning of the vocal music, Beethoven used the strings to play a melody full of wandering and searching, as if Beethoven was looking for a way to better express his deaf and painful soul.