小麻雀之歌 从书店回来 空首布
一步之遥，我就能捉到你 但我放弃了 我放弃是因为 我看到了老麻雀 屋檐下，儿子站在隐影中 儿子说，抓到没有？ 我忽然，想流淚 小小的麻雀呀，我是，为你 你很恐惧，你颤抖 你的翅膀是那么软，甚至，还不能飞 我们走吧，走吧，乖儿子 我给你买坦克，坦克 我无法解释，我此时的心情 和老麻雀的敌意 A Song of a Little Sparrow Only a step away, I would catch you. But I gave up. I gave up because An old sparrow I saw. Under the roof, my son stood in the shadow. Got it? Son asked. All of a sudden, I wanted to cry. Little sparrow, it was for you. You were afraid, trembling. You wings were so tender, even too tender to fly Let us go then, go, my son. I would buy you a toy tank, a tank. I could not explain my feelings to you Or the hostility of the old sparrow.
怀揣着《春缪集》，一个人 像两个人，在大街上走着 我喜欢这半价书，却不喜欢 这打折的生活，每天 忙，是无所事事的忙 闲，是百无聊赖的闲 日子，像预定好的纯净水一样 无味，所谓报酬 只是有限的一点碎银 几乎不够醉了，和朋友去一趟 恋歌房，我知道会有许多人 和我一样活着，就像此时 在远方，你从办公桌旁站起 偶然看到，一隻断了线的风筝 无力地倒掛在电线上……它让你 生出的感触，也许就是 我的。生活在自己的日子里 一个人，像是和菲利浦·拉金 像是和许多人，一起 独自地向前走着。 Back from the Bookstore With Meditations In Spring tucked in arms, alone But as if in company, on the street I walked along I liked the half-priced book, but not This discounted life. Every day I'm Busy, for nothing; Bored, with everything. Life is as dull as the pure water Already ordered, the so-called pay Is just a small amount Barely enough for a drink, with friends I go to The karaoke, knowing there are a whole lot of people Who live like me, just like now, In an office far away, you stand up from the desk, And happen to see a broken kite Limply hung on the electricity line...the feelings It brings to you, may just be Mine. We live in our own world All alone, as if accompanied by Philip Larkin Or lots of others, and Step forward ALONE.
你死亡，然后，复活 在洛阳的一小片光斑里 我透视，内心的射线 不是伦琴，是惊诧 你的外形，如铲，与土 有关，你形而上的身影 溶入交易，而 飘忽於政冶，那是 符号化的文明，还是 人性的堕落？都说不清了 一堆黄土中的 天子六驾，满目马骨 撑起的也许只是 几代古都 A Shovel-like Coin Thou died, then, was reborn. Through a patch of sunlight in Luoyang I looked and saw the rays from heart—— Not the Roentgen rays but amazement You shaped like a shovel, related To earth. Your metaphysical entity Melted into transaction, and Floating over politics, is that Civilization symbolized, or Degeneration of man? It's hard to tell. Buried in the yellow soil, Was the Six-horse Royal Cart, what the sight of horse bones Backs up, perhaps, is only An ancient capital
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