The river is my blood.
She understands my thirst
in the migration.

I will outlive poverty.
The tree of our times will turn green.
But why are my sleeves wet?

The bush is flying.
My heart wearily shakes.
Life is as short as lightning.
It forces me to run
before I have the time to grieve.

tiny things

I cherish tiny things.
They stay warm in daily life,
never attract people’s eyes,
soundless as the stars.
When I touch them, they break into parts,
just like an ancient folk song,
incomplete, yet enough to make me uneasy.
It’s a grain of salt that invades the sea
or a rock that occupies the hill.
The animals whose names I do not know –
the yet-to-be friends
live in a tiny forgotten world.
I want to sing to them. I’m prepared
to get close to them
and cross out a few big words.

the saffron train

A fugitive
is running in the tunnel.
All of us are fugitives
wanted by life.
All places we stayed remained obscured,
so their names could not be erased.
At the turnabout
where train and light disappear,
I ride a horse
to the deep of the grass,
just like taking a breath in the dark.

河流像我的血液
她知道我的渴
在遷徙的路上

我要活出貧窮
時代的叢林就要綠了
是什麼沾濕了我的衣襟

叢林在飛
我的心在疲倦中晃動
人生像一次閃電一樣短
我還沒有來得及悲傷
生活又催促我去奔跑

細小的事物

我珍藏細小的事物
它們溫暖，待在日常的生活裡
從不引人注目，像星星悄無聲息
當我的觸摸，變得如此瑣碎
彷彿聆聽一首首古老的歌謠
並不完整，但它們已讓我無所適從
就像一粒鹽侵入了大海
一塊石頭攻佔了山丘
還有那些叫不出名字的小動物
是我尚未認識的朋友
它們生活在一個被遺忘的小世界
我想讚美它們，我準備著
在這裡向它們靠近
刪去了一些高大的詞
 

橘黃色的地鐵

一個逃犯
在隧道暗處狂奔
每一個人都像逃犯
被生活通緝
所有逗留的地方因此不詳
每一個地名因此不能抹去
在拐彎的地方
地鐵與光一起消失
彷彿一次暗處的喘氣
我和一匹馬
隱沒於草原深處