No more trees

Actually, this world is already indifferent to trees, but it’s just that according to the calendar,
Spring should see the valleys and hills filled with flowers, lush greenery and the joyous
singing voices of humanity……

The wind can’t find a corner to rest
This is Spring
Dusk is about thirty degrees from the horizon
Someone has chiselled a hole in the concrete floor
And has used fairy tales to nurture the sapling of a tree
And also, is feeling pleased

And the island has already lost track of a round of topics

Actually, according to a psychologist who was hurrying past, the remaining trees have
contracted severe schizophrenia, often mistaking themselves for broken lampposts, or
imagining that the falling of leaves was actually the disdainful expression in their eyes, being
hurled, like spit, at the barren land……

No more trees
With their lines of sight floating to the busy spaces
Many shipwrecked glances, shedding painful tears
Silence suddenly spreads
Their noses will soon be unable to bear these times
What more the birds

The earth holding her head in her hands, brooding

Actually, viewing earth from space, the trees are like the spines of a porcupine
defending humanity, constantly using their height to spy on the sunlight’s depth, because
the trees remember the lessons of history, and know that the sun will one day avenge its
nine brothers……

And the birds have lost track of the topic of conversation
Not knowing how long the chaos will last
The sun begins to yearn for its brothers, shot dead by arrows
All the ways of anxiety, losing one’s calm
Leaves of dry, skinny clouds hang off the branches of the trees
Distorting their life’s story

The streets are blanketed with numb houseflies

Actually, those waiting for the bus are wearing masks, and the flies are also uneasily
rubbing their noses, to dispel the unoxygenated air.

The earth is wrapped in thought
Very earnestly trying to ease the constriction in breathing
Those waiting for the bus are holding knitting needles
Weaving the stale air needle by needle into a web
Hanging it on tree branches
To mourn for those trees who’ve died of lung disease

Each perfectly straight trunk will never betray the moonlight

Actually, even though the trees know that they’ve been deceived by civilisation, still
they wholeheartedly hold to their places, deeply afraid that if they leave, it’d set off a
revolution; humans would come and use the tree trunks to manufacture stacks of paper and
print denunciations of each other……

The street is blanketed with numb houseflies
Buzzing round filling each other’s ears with sickening news
Someone took a whole pile of budget deficits and made fun of them
During a nationwide dialogue,
Ten of thousands of trees which had been cut down used their white innocent bodies to receive
the humiliation of tattooing

The posture of the trees while standing

Actually, I had never thought about the purpose of the trees’ unceasing growth, even
while watering them I did not know why we let them grow so tall; ever since the giant Kuafu
threw that club from his hands, entrusting the mission to the good trees, hoping that one
day they would lessen the distance between heaven and earth…

Each perfectly straight trunk will never betray the moonlight
Even as they work hard to heal
The difference in temperature between day and night
While waiting for the bus
Somebody glimpses a shadow
Imagining an afternoon where the leaves are swirled by the wind

History is, for a moment, left hanging

Actually, the physiology of the trees is definitely much more suited to containing
history than humans are. They don’t really cause themselves to look like they’re not trees,
nor do they deign to allow ornaments that don’t belong to them to be added to their
bodies. And they have even hanged themselves in anger, because humanity doesn’t allow
them the freedom of standing upright and looking to the distance.

The posture of the trees while standing
really puzzles the historian wearing thick black-rimmed glasses
About how to use the most precise scientific calculations
To complete each person’s powers of appreciation and imagination
When a tree’s shadow is as long as its actual height
is the sun at the 3.30 position?

As long as one tree lives on

Actually, as long as one tree lives on it is more than enough, because he will not commit
massacres, and is content to be alone. He will get along well with the wind, and humanity
will better understand dignity.

History is, for a moment, left hanging
Waiting for the seed to sprout
and successfully usher in a new era