It keeps raining like this
The village huddles up
Squatting halfway on the hillside
A glimpse from a door crack
Snaps a path stretching into a far distance
The curling smoke from kitchen chimneys
ferret out from dusk
A pile of past events
Which is an utter digression
A gentle scratch by the wind
And leaves will fall like flakes of dandruff
Piling higher and higher
Until they bury this autumn
Together with the remnant scenery in memory
Leaving a few dry twigs
To hold up a dream
Inside everyone's body
A big pile of garbage is being accumulated
I clean mine up in my spare time
Often carrying my worn-out shadows
I stand by the brightly multicoloured bins
Stupefied for half a day
Not knowing into which bin to throw
House prices haven't fallen
Yet meat prices are soaring
I have to divert the topic
Away from a humming poem
Raise several pigs, even if I can't afford
An apartment, at least
l can eat my fill
To become plump and sturdy
When poetry loses its past temptation
Like a pile of repeatedly-discounted goods
Crammed on the shelves
Bankrupting one hundred-year-old shop after another
You have to untie the rope tangled around your neck
Taking your body down from a tree branch
Like picking a towel gourd
Remove the signboard of the exclusive shop
And shift to selling articles of daily use
Night hugs hometown tightly
The past, like a headless and tailless fish
Swims around and never gets hooked
The moon lowers her head and passes through
The bridge arch in the distance, like a single tear
Rising and falling in the world
The moment pomegranates grin from ear to ear
Maple leaves blush half the hillside
The autumn wind eats up the chirping of birds perching on twigs one bite after another
Cold Dew
Blinking its eyes
Peeps
Mist betrays itself
Under the assault of sunshine
A woman won another prize
By virtue of a few twisted lines of poetry
Though something is well known to everybody
Everybody is pretending to be unaware
She is pretending as well
Like a repaired hymen
Nobody is willing to
Puncture a fallacy with a single remark
9汉中
如一只孔雀
被大山围养着
黄昏时
才缓缓地打开屏
总有些美让我忍不住
多看了几眼
Hanzhong
By WEI Yanlie
Like a peacock
Surrounded and nurtured by mountains
At dusk
Gradually fanning out its tail feathers
There must be some beauty
I can't help casting a few more glimpses
A face
Like an old blackboard
Hangs on the wall
Deep in wrinkles that become increasingly deeper by wiping
Are hidden
Memories of childhood
A few white hairs
Like broken chalk
One time after another
Are being thrown at me
发表于 2020-5-24 10:59
发表于 2020-5-27 10:22
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