Your voice
In my world.
Never.
That year, that day, that moment
My altar, the guards of the city
distracted
You snuck in
Your voice
Enough to revive the dead.
I don't want to hear it
No reason
Kona wave rate
Has shaken the foundation of the altar city.
Day after day, one by one.
Fall off, die out
No trace.
I looked at it and said to myself:
Yucheng? That's all.
I turned to the guard,
Blame him for dereliction of duty.
Tears filled his eyes,
Sing a moving melody:
Stop talking about my job,
I'm ashamed of it.
I'm not distracted,
I just woke up.
In front of him,
I became a torch!
-
Self-burning city
I haven't heard your voice in my world yet.
At that moment, that day, that year,
In the city of self,
My guard was half asleep, leaving the door ajar.
There you are. ?
Your voice,
Enough to wake the dead,
I refused to listen for no reason. ?
The foundation of my city,
Began to tremble with your waves.
Little by little, day by day,
Until it collapses and dies. ?
I looked at it and said:
Is that you, city of self?
You are nothing but this. ?
Then I turned to the guard? And exclaimed:
You! Pay for your negligence! ?
With tears on his face,
The guards sang this melody:
Don't mention my work again;
I'm ashamed of it.
This is not to say that I fell asleep;
Actually, I was awakened.
In front of him,
I burst into flames.
I had a dream last night and got up in the morning to write this poem.
First, the words "guard", "enter" and "Tancheng" floated around vaguely, and I didn't know what was pulling me, as if I wanted to talk, but I didn't know what to say. That energy seems to explode. I feel it and pay attention to it. Stop yoga and bring paper and pen.
I wrote a poem in Chinese, and I want to translate it in order to let my husband know what I wrote. I think I can express myself better in English. In fact, it is no longer a translation. I just felt what I wanted to say in the English context and made an English poem.
I find that I prefer English expression. On the basis of English, I began to review Chinese again. Some have revised Chinese, some have revised English according to Chinese, some have revised English, and some have changed Chinese. The Chinese word for "torch" was originally "flame", so we should adjust between these two words. Back and forth many times, Chinese promotes English, and English promotes Chinese. I just finished writing this poem, and I finally chose the word "torch". "Torch" can better express the warning given to me by that sentence in my dream than "flame". The name of the person I talked to in my dream is also more appropriate to the meaning of "torch".
I finally understand why Haruki Murakami tore up the first draft written in Japanese, rewrote it in English, and then translated it from English into Japanese when writing his first novel, Listening to the Wind. I find that writing in English can improve my Chinese. I seem to have found a new creative mode, and I am very happy!
That dream is like this:
I went to my holy land-Haifa, Israel, in front of Baqiao's mausoleum. His mausoleum, resplendent and magnificent dome, looks solemn and magnificent against the tall and straight dark green pine trees. I took this photo with my mobile phone. Later, someone told me in a dream:
If you want others to burn, you have to burn yourself first.
After getting up, this sentence has been lingering in my ear. I told the client who told me this sentence in my dream that that person exists in reality. Then the impulse to write poetry began to churn, and I stopped eating breakfast and began to write. I was deeply moved after writing the poem. Thanks for his guidance.
After writing English, I want to revise it for my husband, for fear of grammatical mistakes. But he was too busy at work to watch it all morning. I couldn't bear to press it, so I found an American friend to watch it for me. She was surprised, but she said it was too difficult to change other people's poems, and she didn't know how to change them. I have to wait patiently until my husband is busy.
At noon, Mr. Wang called me while having lunch, confirmed the metaphor he understood with me, and then helped me make adjustments according to the English way of thinking. He's really hard. I told him that this poem was due to you. Thank him for always supporting me.
After the adjustment, I saw it and burst into tears. I realized that a scholar who studied Rumi said:
Rumi paced up and down in the granary like an ant, surprised at this small discovery.
Here's the thing. I fell into the ocean of poetry. ......
-End of this article-