Gluck often discusses women's issues in his poems, and the sense of loss and alienation are the same themes in his poems.
1.？ illusion
I want to tell you one thing: every day.
People will die. And this is just the beginning.
There are new orphans and widows in the funeral home every day.
At birth. They sat with their hands folded,
Try to decide on a new life.
Then they went to the cemetery.
This is the first time. They are afraid to cry,
Sometimes I'm afraid not to cry. Someone leaned over,
Tell them what to do next, maybe just
Say a few words, sometimes
Throw dirt into the open grave.
After that, everyone went home,
The house was suddenly crowded with guests.
The widow sat on the sofa, very serious,
People lined up to approach her,
Sometimes I shake her hand, sometimes I hug her.
She found what she said to everyone,
Thank them, thank them for coming.
In her heart, she wanted them to leave.
She wants to go back to the cemetery,
Back to the ward, back to the hospital. She knows.
That's impossible. But that's just her wish,
I wish I could go back in time. Just a little,
You don't need to get married. First kiss.
2.？ Halloween (1 1 month 1 day)
Even now, this landscape is gathering.
The hill darkened. cattle
Sleeping in blue chains,
Tian
Pick it up, crops
Bundle evenly and pile up on the side of the road
In the middle of cranberries, the toothed moon rises:
Is this a harvest or a plague?
Desolate.
The wife leaned out of the window.
Open your hand as if you were paying the bill.
Those seeds
Clear and golden, calling
come here
Come here, little guy.
The soul climbed out of the tree.
3.？ midnight
Talking to me is bitter: what are you doing for me?
What ridiculous errand have you designed yourself?
Crying in the dark garage
Take a big bag of garbage out.
It's not what you want to do, but what you want to do.
Empty the dishwasher. There you go again.
Show off,
Just like your childhood-you like it.
In sports, you are notoriously sarcastic.
Where is detachment? A little moonlight hits
On the broken window, a little summer moonlight,
gently
With the sweetness from the earth
Whispering—
This is what you communicate with your husband.
Way? When he called,
You don't answer. Or this is a time of inner sadness.
What it looks like: It wants to be alone.
Stay with garbage? If I were you,
I'll think ahead. Fifteen years later,
His voice may become tired; One night.
If you don't answer, someone will.
4.？ poetic sentiment
At dusk, at this moment, a man
Writing at a desk.
He slowly raised his head; A woman
Show up with roses in your hands.
Her face floats on the surface of the mirror,
Green rose stems adorn the edge of the mirror.
This is suffering.
One form: then always put transparent pages.
Put it by the window until the paper line appears.
The ink is finally filled with words.
I have to find out.
What ties them together?
Or go to the gray house firmly occupied by dusk
Because I have to enter their lives:
Spring has arrived, and there is a faint layer of white flowers.
Covered with pear trees.
5.？ summer
Remember the day when we were happy for the first time,
How strong we are, how dizzy our passion makes us,
Lying in a narrow bed all day, and then all night,
Sleep there, eat there: it was summer,
It seems that everything is immediate.
Mature. It was so hot that we lay naked.
Sometimes the wind blows and the willow tips brush the window.
But we're a little lost, don't you feel it?
A bed is like a raft; I think we're drifting away.
Our nature drifts where we can't find anything.
First the sun, then the moon, piece by piece,
Shuttle between willows.
Anyone can see these things.
Then the cycle ends. The night gets cold slowly;
Hanging willow leaves.
Turn yellow and fall down. We've all started.
Deep loneliness, although we will never talk about it,
Let alone regret it.
We are artists again, my husband.
We can continue this journey.