Selected Poems of the Post-90s (Forty-Four): Ding Wei's Poems

Ding Wei, female, born in 1993, from Jinxi, Fuzhou, Jiangxi. At the end of 2015, he began to write and published poetry works in People's Literature, Selected Poems, Yanhe and so on. His works have been selected for several anthologies of poetry. He works at Jinxi Langju Town Center Primary School in Jiangxi.

1

We

The waves of the earth,

Flow on one street

Sheltered in a small room.

We held hands and walked during the day.

We kissed at night and squandered sweat.

We are repeating the original intention of mankind

- History is once again restored to reality.

Just one day,

Enough time.

How firm is this gilded color,

Starting from the surface, a hard texture has formed.

We have completed all forms of love.

When day replaces night again,

We will also be pouring into the crowds...

On a blind and inevitable path

Read out the last secrets of the world

2

Hidden diseases

They hide inside the body,

Remind me once in a while

They really exist.

It reminds me,

Those who have come and gone.

They hid in my memory,

It came back one late at night.

They are like them

Although it is not fatal,

But it was enough to make me ache.

3

trance

The rain has been falling,

The street lights are getting dimmer,

The car's taillights flickered

As if only to prove his existence.

She stood at the fork in the road.

This blur of everything,

It was like her chaotic twenty years.

She tried to use her hands

Wipe the rain off your face like a wiper,

So that the things in front of you are clear.

It's just raining and dripping

One drop covers one drop.

It's not just the things in front of you that you can't see clearly.

Even she herself became blurry.

She stood dazed and wooden in the rain

It was as if I had suddenly returned to twenty years ago

Twenty years later.

4

Waterwheel

It no longer requires labor,

A lot of times

It is more often regarded as a rare ornamental object

Standing alone in the field.

In the corner of the field

It is blown by the wind and makes a "grunting" sound.

It reminds me of my grandfather,

A lifetime of dealing with fields.

Today, when threshing machines are prevalent

He still harvested with a sickle.

Every time he cut the rice, he made a "whooshing" sound,

The windmill just turns once.

5

The end of the day

The leaves fade yellow, somewhat narrated

It's hard to resist when it does

The left hand flipped over the dust negatives

The right hand draws the boundaries of the seasons.

Full of dust

Like a mother's bulging belly.

Birds chirp in the distance,

Polish the windowsills and give me the power to shout

Trying to sprint is not just that

This eventful autumn.

I am like the last egg that lies dormant on the earth,

All the teeth have just spoken

My mother is already an autumn body with a big belly.

All the things you perceive

They are all secretly working hard,

There are traces of vanishing or arriving.

Selected poems of the post-90s in the past period:

(Excerpt from "I Hear Time: The Rise of China's Post-90s Poets")

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