Letter from William,1

 

In the solitude of night, we come out the back door of the kitchen,

walking in single file at the dusk under the living room window.

In the back yard, no grass is under the domination, being

allowed to hoard a burst of  extravagant disillusionment.

 

That year, the spider weaved a web in the sky.

Passing by the tilted mirror of the half-slope, I see

the trade wind coming to drive the mares and the young horses

running one after another towards the hills.

 

The shed suddenly falls into a stagnant vortex,

August shows a sad look.

Walking under the clouds, we perceive that

the moon have reached our own crock we carried.

 

Gods are silent. She says: "Dad said, tonight

You have to obey my command. "

The rope gently shakes, secreting sadness.

Her body transpires the smell of trees.

 

In the distance, people rehearses a dance of death

in the hall under shining of candle light. She hears the whisper of a tree.

Rising and falling at the same place, she perseveringly

approaches towards the heart of a tree, still and silently.

 

2009-9-3

 

 

 

Letter from William,2

 

In December, the flames danced.

People pray to another "little ego " in heart.

But he still sings.

God can not listen.

When the order is broken, his voice is regarded with tenderness by people.

 

there is often a sound of boots

when the guests arrive and pace on the cold and dry earth.

It is pale outside, light floats,

Stars are speeding up to hurtle into the sad things which we can not perceive.

It seems that a holiday is coming.

 

At the appropriate moment, you come back with a mass of light,

transpiring the thin smell of trees.

I drag away from people's arms,

then walk towards the falling thing

which turns over on the road.

 

The trade wind begins to blow the outside news that has not arrived.

Someone in boots is waiting anxiously.

I suddenly see time intending to change expression rapidly:

as if  it can make each garden

be lonely in a hurry.

 

 

 

Letter from carp,3

 

In June, years of the village shines brilliantly.

The boy in the green garden dances with the mote

under the light of a lamp, then rides a grass stem to the East Village.

 

On the bank, the chest of chinaberry woods has been burning hot.

Bright yellow seedlings walk in the noisy water.

Chestnut trees hang in the mirror.

 

The house sleeps lonely in summer, giving pregnant to the bright mystery.

The body of his widowed second elder brother rises constantly

in the low-wall with a spell. He bends down into the house

to unload a bunch of comic books.

 

The younger brother comes out from the corner gate,

then takes out a piece of fresh sugar cane. 

Thanks for our sharing of his white legend:

a large bird flys into the sky from the hand.

 

Coming back, light gathers on a long slate.

Dried river has been blocked. He stands barefoot,

and listens the endless thunder from the col edge,

being half asleep and half awake.

 

2011-3-20

 

 

Letter from carp ,4

 

Bank rises higher and higher, a vast whiteness burst into view.

Clouds hop out from arm,

accumulating in a pool of stream. It reflects the innocent and furry face

of a new hoe.

 

Grass stems are in a stubborn, the ridge of field is getting smaller

before its approach. The lonely pear tree

distributes ten years constantly.

Elder brothers’ tender laughter becomes severe gradually.

 

He remembered that he passed by a red mud board:

Beside the eaves, a body on the slope sat up suddenly.

Something is spiting thunder at the mouth, and the flame is running.

The Noon is in dense fog.

 

Pine needles flutters in the fog.Sun takes care of the green branches.

There is a dark green house in the woods.

He holds a bowl of rice to see his real body,

then lower his head beside the obstructed hill path .

 

2011-3-20

（Husang）

 

 

 

 

威廉来信1

 

夜色寂寥，我们走出厨房的后门，

鱼贯行走在客厅窗底的暮色里。

后院，青草无人管辖，任其

屯积起又一阵奢侈的幻灭。

 

那年，蜘蛛已在天空结网。

经过半山坡倾斜的镜面时，看到

信风前来赶起厩棚里的母马子马

纷纷向山冈上跑去。

 

屋棚刹时失陷于一个停滞的旋涡，

八月显出它黯然的神情。

行走在云幕底下，我们感知到

月亮抚摸到了我们各自怀揣的那只坛子。

 

众神无语。她说道：“爸爸说了，今晚

你们都得听我指挥。”

绳子轻轻晃动，分泌忧伤。

她的身体发出树的香味。

 

远处，人们在大厅茧光的辉映下

排练起死亡的舞会。她倾听到一棵树的低语。

在原地起伏着，她一动不动、默默无言地

向着树心做着坚忍的靠近。

 

2009-9-3

 

 

威廉来信2

 

十二月，火焰跳动不已。

人们都在心中祷告另一个“小我”。

可他仍然吟唱着，

神又无法下来倾听。

秩序紊乱时，他的声音曾被众人眷顾。

 

在冰冷干燥的大地上，

时常会响起客人来时踱步的靴子声。

外面灰白，光线浮动，

星星正加速坠向我们不可感知的忧伤的事物中。

像是有一个节日就要来临。

 

适宜时刻，你从外面携带一团光芒归来，

发出稀薄的树的香味。

有坠落的事物在马路上翻身，

我挣脱人们的怀抱，

向它走去。

 

信风开始吹打门外还未抵达的消息，

穿靴子的人正焦急地等待。

我突然看到时光欲急遽变脸：

仿佛一下子，它就能使

每一座花园变得如此孤独。

 

 

2009-11-6

 

 

锦鲤来信3

 

六月，村庄的年岁闪烁光辉。

青青园子里的少年，随明瓦光柱下的

粒子跳舞，骑一根草茎去东村。

 

 

坡岸下，楝树林的胸膛已滚烫，

行走在响水里的禾苗一派明黄。

栗子树悬挂在镜子里。

 

 

夏天的屋子犹自沉睡，孕育明玄。

他二哥鳏夫的身子，在被施过魔咒的

矮墙里不断升高。他弯腰进了屋子，

卸下一捆小人书。

 

从角门里走出来弟弟 ，

拿出一截新鲜的甘蔗。

感谢我们分享了他的白色传奇：

一只大鸟从手中飞向天空。

 

 

归来，光线聚于长石板。

枯涸的水被拦截，他赤足站立上面，

听山凹边滚过来无边的雷声，

似醒未醒。

 

2011-3-20

 

 

锦鲤来信4

 

 

堤岸越升越高，眼前已白茫茫一片。

臂膊里迸出几匹乌云 ，

堆积在一泓溪水里。映出新锄它

无辜而愤怒的脸。

 

草茎倔强，田埂在逼近来之前

又变小了。孤单的梨树

不断派发出十个寒暑。

哥哥们温和的笑声慢慢变得严厉。

 

他想起经过一个修长的红泥坂：

屋檐畔，坡上一个身子猛然坐起。

有物口吐霹雳，火焰奔走。

正午氤氲不已。

 

雾中松针抖动，阳光照料丛中碧枝，

里面一座青青的屋舍。

他端一碗白米饭去看自己的真身，

又在隔断的山径边低下头来。

 

2011-3-20