run for it
Life cries while running, and the autumn wind blows his long hair?
Blow those precious and redundant thoughts into the Pacific Ocean?
The man who was blown by the wind ran as hard as he could, and he kept thinking?
Get on the bus of life ahead. This guy, my boyfriend?
A migrant worker who wandered from other places to Juteling?
A man who has been running in an industrial zone for 65 days and can't find a job?
A man who still insists on fate will have meat and bread?
In this small village, he said that a bright future beckoned to him?
He moved forward with a few thin resumes.
He still loves this life?
For example, he will tell me about lovers in litchi forest?
Or did he meet a tramp with the same fate as him?
Once he was almost caught by a temporary residence permit inspector?
Or did a prostitute once ask him if he needed it on the overpass?
More often, he will whisper those ideals that are still far away?
He told me that persistence is an ideal?
But I saw him in the light and held back my tears in my ideal.
Huohuohuo
In the 3000-degree fire, I heard the prediction of steel?
All the happiness and sadness it says are burning in the furnace?
Love illuminated by fire keeps me awake all night?
I will whisper, boiling fire, burn out my youth?
I don't want it to let time cut, so the pain is in the mirror?
I said, burning these poems on paper, this inner passion?
I just want to melt myself into cast iron?
Iron that neither thinks nor misses?
Abandon a wanderer's homesickness, memories and fate of running around?
But the quenched iron fell to the ground and was splashed with cold water?
Small and desperate voice?
Much like my voice in a foreign land when I was young.
emphasize
Every day, the sea breeze blows in this house?
Books, clocks and computers in it?
A quilt full of love?
Scattered poems, countless first thoughts?
Or fables, fairy tales, lies that are too late to expose?
The smell of lost years, homesickness ...?
Everyone let it explode?
Henan people who sell fruits there insist on selling them every day?
The coolies on the construction site insist on singing every day?
Litchi forest keeps growing, and the fire in the hardware factory keeps burning?
Insist on pain and beauty in life?
It says: You insist on giving up on yourself every day?
Or you insist on aging every day.
light
What a faint light?
Weak love, through the fate of wandering?
Change me, change loneliness
Maybe I don't need too much?
At dusk, in the litchi forest in the evening breeze?
In the clear birdsong opposite me?
What separates me is light and eyes?
If the wind gently blows my long hair at the moment?
I will whisper, love life?
I will feel happy because of this, just like the light through the forest?
Little by little, little by little.
dusk
The evening breeze blows from the litchi forest, rustling clothes?
A child coming back from school flies at the glass?
People in Henan who sell apples smile under the dusk light, and the anvil of the hardware factory sounds?
The silk scarves of the garment factory sparkle and jump, like the brilliant youth of female workers.
Their beauty rolled up the sadness and overlooking of jute ridge?
I stood on the windowsill and saw leaves flying in the wind. One of them slipped?
Birds in the distance. The tide is surging in me. I think?
At this time, someone in the distance must fall in love with me, right?
He is also standing on the balcony at the moment, listening to the dusk with me?
2. Iron
Outside of time, the rust of iron grows in secret.
Under the incandescent lamp, my youth is like a rustling tree.
Scattered like iron filings, pieces fell to the ground, and the ground was mottled.
Look up, iron, growing in the body.
It seems that my back is turned to my litchi forest, and the wind is swaying.
Flowers and shadows, how much iron grows old between drawings.
They followed the van.
A vague and unpredictable fate of these irons.
Where are these people going, these her, these you?
It's still me, carrying heavy luggage and confused.
At the station, in the industrial area, their clear faces.
Waiting for the arrangement of drawings like iron, a silent person
Over their heads, one or two unknown birds flew by.
Leave a deep voice, and my inner ups and downs of melancholy.
South window, I see them.
I can't help but go to the vast industrial zone.
Their bent bodies remind me of many years ago.
Or how many years later, I slowly disappeared into time.
I don't know fate, like a criss-crossing iron fence.
But I can't find its direction.
Step 3 iron
Small iron, soft iron, the wind is blowing
Rain, iron with a rusty timidity and shyness.
Last year's time went backwards ... like the time dripping in a pinhole.
How many irons are still at night, in the open-air warehouse, on the machine ... them?
Where are you going? Where are you going? How much iron
Ask yourself in the middle of the night, what is it?
Rusty rustle, who is it at night?
Declare the past and future of life in Life of Steel.
What else is stainless steel? Last year, a container truck accompanied me.
I have gone far, and this year is still flowing through my fingers.
Tomorrow is the coming iron block, waiting for the drawings.
Machines, commands, and at this moment, where am I and where will I go?
"Life is like a burning and surging flame."
My stranger's timidity is rusting in my body.
Me, alone, or a group of people.
And the iron in the hand, the iron that has been silent for many years.
Iron that stays away at any time, iron that comes back at any time,
In the rustling time flow, it rusts. Watch.
Eager to take root here like the bars around you?
nail
How much love, how much pain, how many nails.
Nail me to the machine, drawings, orders,
There is dew in the morning and blood at noon.
Overtime needs a nail, occupational disease
There are inexplicable sadness, but also the days of migrant workers.
Nailed in the building, spreading the happiness and misfortune of an era.
How many tired shadows twinkle in the dim light.
How many thin working girls smile in numbness.
Their love and memories are like moss under the green trees, quiet and fragile.
How many silent nails pass through their leisurely bodies
The kindness and purity that flowed in their time were separated by profits and unpaid wages.
Labor law, homesickness and unknown love
Card holder hanging on light blue assembly line
My nails hurt. Stay for a while.
Outside the window, autumn has passed and someone lives on it.
ache
I have been thinking, what brought me here from thousands of miles away?
Is it windy near the ocean, and the garment factory works twelve hours a day?
I can't think of anything else about those thin bills on the 25th of every month.
Can let me bear my fate in this small village?
Its prosperity belongs to others, and its factories, streets and clothing stores belong to others?
Its spring belongs to others, and only the thin shadow is its own?
It's been more than two years, and I haven't found a reason to be here?
So I am immersed in the memories of eastern Sichuan every day?
There is a small hospital there.
Where did I stop for four years?
There is a half-bright and half-dark lamp there?
It will light my way home.
6. Blue
A small blue flower opens in the sky and tends to be calm.
A little blue flower came to the fire and asked her heart.
Dark blue appears in iron sheets, pictures and greasy gloves.
The machine made a blue roar and it slipped out.
Koharu, love for someone.
Like fire, between forged iron sheets, it is blue.
Like a flower, the pear tree outside the window is blue.
His light secret, farther-
In the litchi forest, Bai Niao began to sing.
Last year's flowers were blue, in my eyes.
Wandering. Blue, some in the welding flame, its body.
Trembling, my vague thoughts and clear heart
Growing up, blooming slightly blue in love.
Quiet blue is the other side of work and life, its lightness.
Its shallow, perishable and cold love.
In the wandering, like a dim blue shining on me.
In addition to love, in addition to the blue starlight, sigh
Scraps of iron and pieces of paper on the table were erased in a low voice.
Noise, running and fatigue in the workshop. The rest is the blue in love.
Open a vision, a dream of the future.
7. Green (surname); green
Awakening body, the chill of early spring.
A small pot of green daffodils on the windowsill
-It's a little secret, a little scary
Spring breeze touched the neck of litchi forest, and those winters.
It drove away, leaving the slope of the roof in spring.
And the green qualified list. My love is on the machine.
Shining is a green sigh.
As timid, flying and messy as iron filings.
Close to the injured finger, the pain of parting
Plant a pot of holly on the windowsill.
It's like his hand is waving.
Inch by inch, flowing in the body.
These bodies and minds are also lush.
Hazy green, blooming in the distance.
It grows on me at the end of spring.
Their sorrow is the ocean.
Her time, in a short gaze.
How much love is hidden in the twilight, only the light.
Illuminate this dim heart and floating paper.
About the author: Zheng Xiaoqiong: female, a famous poet. 1980 was born in Sichuan. I worked in the south for many years and wrote poems. Some of my works have been published in Independence, Piston, People's Literature, Poetry Magazine, Hua Shan, Selected Poems Magazine, Star, Tianya, etc. My works have been selected as the best books of the year for many times and have been translated into many languages. He has participated in the 3rd National Prose Poetry Pen Meeting and the 2nd1Youth Poetry Club of Poetry Magazine. Won many awards such as People's Literature Award and Zhuang Chongwen Literature Award. His published poetry collections include Poems Scattered on Machines, Selected Poems of Zheng Xiaoqiong, Pure Plants, Records of Female Workers, etc. Now lives in Guangdong.
Zheng Xiaoqiong's attitude towards poetry should be said to be diversified, but in fact there is a process of change. From "getting rid of loneliness" at the beginning to "completely facing the reality and society" later, her poetry changed from a narrow vision to a broad world, from which she also completed a spiritual baptism and "completely became another person". Of course, Zheng Xiaoqiong's poems go far beyond "getting rid of loneliness" and "completely facing reality and society". Now, most of us only see the great influence of her poems about "facing reality and society", but often ignore the personal spiritual transformation history of Zheng Xiaoqiong, the creator of these poems. In this spiritual transformation, Zheng Xiaoqiong is undoubtedly painful and anxious, but she is a person who dares to take responsibility. Although she is modest, and even truly reveals that "I am a coward", from her many personal actions related to poetry (even unrelated to poetry), she reveals her courage to take responsibility. And all this seems to be given to her by poetry.