My days are lazy and crazy.
I beg bread from beggars,
I give coins to rich people.
With light I pass through the eye of the embroidery needle,
I leave the door key to the thief,
With white I decorate the paleness of my face.
The beggar rejected my request,
the rich despised my offer,
it would be impossible for light to pass through the eye of a needle.
The thief does not need a key to enter the door.
The silly woman shed three lines of tears
After a ridiculous and dishonorable day.
(Translated by Mung Bean) Poems grow like stars and roses,
Or like the beauty that was never expected by the family.
For all garlands and crowning glory
An answer: Whence does it reach me?
We were sleeping, and suddenly, moving on the stone slab,
the four-petaled guest from heaven appeared.
Oh world, catch it! By the singer - in his sleep - opened
The rules of the star, the formula of the flower.
(Translated by Mung Bean) My windows are very high.
You won't be able to reach it with your fingers.
It seems like a cross on the wall of my attic
The sun has begun to linger.
The window rail is like an exquisite cross shape.
Tranquility. - albeit immortal.
I imagined it as if it were me
being buried in heaven.
(Translated by Mung Bean) The devil in me is not dead,
He is alive and well.
Being in the body is like being imprisoned,
Being in the self is like being in a solitary cell,
The world is just within high walls.
The exit consists of knives and axes.
(The whole world is a stage,
The actor talks.)
The shambling clown
is not a joker:
Being in the flesh is like enjoying glory,
Being in the flesh is like wearing official robes.
May you live forever!
Cherish your life.
Only a poet at heart
It is like living a lie.
No, my eloquent brother,
We are not going to have much fun anymore.
Being in the flesh is like being clothed in
Father’s nightgown
We deserve better.
We wither in warmth. Being in the body is like being in a cattle pen, and being in the self is like being in a boiler.
Miracles are fading
We don’t claim them.
In the physical body it is like falling into a swamp.
Being buried in the body is like being buried in a cellar.
Being in the body is like being in the most remote
exile. It is withering.
Being in the body is like being trapped in a secret.
Being inside the body is like being stuck in the pincers of an
iron mask.
(Translated by Mung Bean) There is a double-edged sword lying between us.
The oath will live on in our thoughts...
But the passionate sisters are here!
But the brotherly passion is here!
Such a mixture
The prairie in the wind, and the abyss in the blowing lips
... Sword, save us
Far from our immortal souls!
The sword breaks us and pierces us,
The sword executes us, but we understand,
There is such an ultimate truth
< p>Existence, the edge of such a roof...A double-edged sword sowing discord?
It also brings people together! Digging a hole in the promontory,
Gathering us together, guardians in fear.
Wound inserts wound, cartilage penetrates cartilage!
(Listen! If a star is falling...
It is not for the wish of a child who fell from a ship into the sea
Here is Island,
An island for everyone and every love...)
A double-sided blade, pouring into
blue will turn into red ...We press
the double-sided blade into ourselves,
it is best to lie down!
This will be a brotherly wound!
In this way, under the stars, there is no sin
... It is as if we are two brothers, welded together by a sword!
(Translated by Mung Bean) It is dark in my metropolis - night.
I walked out of my sleepy room onto the street.
What people think of is: wife, daughter,——
But I only remember one word: night.
The wind that sweeps the streets for me is July.
There was a faint sound of music coming from someone’s window.
Ah, let it blow all night long until dawn - the wind,
blow into my - chest through the thin chest wall.
A black poplar tree. There is a light-fire in the window,
The bells on the bell tower are ringing, and there are small flowers in the hands.
The footsteps are not following any one,
I am a shadow, but in fact there is no - me.
A string of golden rosary beads - lamps,
The taste of night leaves melts in the mouth.
Let go, let go of the daytime rope.
Friends, I walk into your dream.
(Translated by Fei Bai) Listen carefully like this, like the mouth of a river
Listen carefully to your own source.
Smell deeply like this. Smell a
little flower. Until consciousness fades into nothingness.
Like this, bottomless desire melts into the blue air
Like this, in the blue of the sheets
The child looks into the distance of memory.
Like this. The lotus-like boy
experiences the blood hot spring silently.
...Just like this, falling in love with love
Just like this, falling into the abyss.
(Translated by Fei Bai) (1)
I would like to live a flawless and simple life.
Like a calendar - a pendulum - a sun.
A worldly hermit of exquisite proportions,
Wise as every creature of God.
Understand that the spirit is my companion, and the spirit is
my guide.
Unannounced entry is like a ray of light, a glance.
Live life as I describe it: simple and flawless -
God’s way, but friends don’t.
(2)
My blood vessels were suddenly cut open: unable to be contained, unable to recover, life spurted forward.
Hold your plates and bowls steady!
Each bowl will soon be too shallow,
a plate too flat.
Over the edge, far away
Penetrating into the dark soil to fertilize the weeds.
Irreversible, unstoppable,
unable to reply, poetry spurts forward.
(3)
With this hand, sailors have sounded the trumpet for hundreds of miles with it
With this hand, it has blown the trumpet Forging carols at night,
Like an illiterate, I cross the X.
If that's not enough, I agree in advance!
Chop them both, so that at night,
gushing, the joyful red waves
will flood the river of ink!
(Translated by Mung Bean) I want to live with you
In a small town,
***enjoy the endless dusk
And the endless ringing of bells.
In the hotel in this small town——
The faint sound of the ancient clock
is like the gentle dripping of time .
Sometimes, at dusk, the sound of the flute comes from a room on the top floor.
The flute player leans against the window,
< p>And there are big tulips in the window.If you don’t love me now, I won’t care.
In the center of the room, there is a stove made of tiles.
Each tile is painted with a picture:
A heart, a ship. Sailboat, a rose.
And looking out of our only window,
Snow, snow, snow.
You will lie in the posture I like: lazy,
indifferent, indifferent.
The screeching sound of a lit match once or twice.
The flame of your cigarette turns from strong to weak,
The end of the smoke trembles and trembles
The short gray cigarette butt - even the ashes
You didn’t even bother to flick it down——
The cigarette flew into the fire.