Modern Poetry: A Qiu Si

Last year's plum tree.

In the golden age

Ring the midnight bell

Take a breath of Siberian wind.

Ants can lift stones.

Smash mantis

Curly mulberry leaves

Silkworm hiding in it, a person sad.

Never believe.

A stunning beauty after cocoon breaking

The cactus that has been waiting upstairs for ten years

Deformed aluminum basin

Broken red tile

Rotten beams.

A green snake once walked on it.

The cactus stabbed it.

No tears.

Mustard and eggplant in the field

wait for

Harvest or frost burial

I drew a circle on the ground.

Put candles, bibles and ears of rice.

since then/from then on

The night is no longer dark.

My house lives in my heart.

open the window

There is no key to the gate.

Red oleander

Perform terrible witchcraft

Yellow oleander

Soothes the wizard who forgot the spell.

Remember the large area of cotton in the field?

Get wet in the autumn rain

White, red and pink flowers

Born in the dry wind

White fiber

Covering a lonely body

Falling pine needles

Insert it into the stomach of a wild cat

In the belly

Light a bonfire

Or twenty-one candles

Illuminate it at night

Ghostly eyes

Spit out from a maple leaf

raging flames

On a remote hill

Burning alone

There is no sound of insects chirping.

Bad bird language

The wind from the north

Lock the throat of happiness

The pavilion on the top of the mountain

Put down a tile

This is an autumn pawn.

Every year.

Until only a few traces of decay remain.