Poetry Space | Yu Changxiong: The Bell In Bloom in the Rose (7 songs)

A bell blooming in a rose

(7 songs)

□ Yu Changxiong

Girl with scarab beetle

Wild palms are tall enough. Girl and scarab beetle

Racing, she tied long braids

The scarab beetle flew desperately until the riverbed dried up

The boiling night reveals the nest of the wind

The girl sat under a pomegranate tree in the yard

Singing, the peaks in the remote area began to shake

The insect song dissipated, the father deep in the mountains

Some of them stood up in the light

The scarab beetle flew over his head

over and over. There were a few moments

They cling to the clouds like thin clothes

But still nothing has fallen

The girl's braids were getting longer and longer, and I called out to her

Sister, she looked back pure and peaceful

In that little-known town

Wild palms are tall enough, and the living are short

Low hanging

There is a large area growing under the cliff

Reeds, no one recognized their difference

Something unpredictable

For example, the stream is rising, and the bird is dead

Maybe reeds aren't just reeds

We see through the wind its surge

Perceived by wave-like clustering

The complexity of the mountains, the sound of hula

It seems that there has never been a block

We didn't have much time to cross

Just like those creeping stones

There wasn't much time to wake yourself up

It's the law of nature, thin and close

Reeds are not here for a day

Until taller than man, until it is rooted

You can find out where the stream is going

And by then, one of us had already

Decay – like flying buds

It fell on each other again, and it didn't hurt

Not itchy, but deep into the bone marrow

This is also unpredictable, after all

There are always more reeds in the evening than there are

People in the mirror, they hang low

We have just risen from behind the bright moon

Ludean and his stone house

Ludean had a house on the hill

Densely packed of stones, like he had been for decades

The way it was alive. They are heavy and invisible

Only a few people have seen it, but no one can move it

Rolling stones down from the mountain with the bottom of the mountain

The stones that are transported up again and again

Fortified together, plus cement and wind

The wings of the wind, that is the original home

Ludean wrote poetry and painted in the house

Drink the tea brewed from the mountain spring and see the black oak in

Grow at night, waiting for the shimmer of fireflies

Firmly immersed in the crevices of the stone

The stone began to breathe, for a short while

Long for a while, like a human voice, to winter

Snowflakes covered the roof, Ludean's footsteps

It became very light, like snow over snow

Many years later, I still remember

On the way up the hill, those stones became ancient

Ludean glanced at it from time to time

The wind is blowing, the trees are not moving, and the birds are flying away

Dark room

Specimens of butterflies in old books

Brighter than a lantern, a lantern made of paper

Thin layer, you hide and seek in the darkroom

And him in the photo

The sound of cicadas is a tunnel that is getting deeper and deeper

You can't get out, grabbing a drop of rain in acacia

The mirror shatters. In the summer, the flower skirt is exposed

Creases, you draw heart-shaped ones on glass

At night, two rivers cover it

Love is sometimes more like an insect, it squirms

Two antennae reach into the kaleidoscope

Your negatives are so brilliant and yet imaged

Has floated out of the darkroom, a vigorous flight

He stopped there, and the rain came visiting again and again

Somewhere, you are as quiet as a flower

Butterflies fall and lanterns are lit

Remove

The rain continued continuously, and some people were blindfolded

Cities in the fog are mostly floating

container. You're listening to an unforgettable song

Green Rose grows wildly, a movie at 3:33

Put a mask on the winner who failed

Closed windows, one after the other

The upside-down river is heading into its own abyss

You think of a sparrow from your childhood, injured

Rest in the gap between rain and rain

Decades have passed, and the sound of rain has come

Still so big, so heavy

There seems to be nothing in this world that can be lifted

Object, you erase it, break it

It's still wandering, like a scar in a knife

This season of rain, the rain hits in your face

There was no crying, but many people were already buried there

Sixteen lotuses

See it the way a bird

An hour, as if destiny was destined to have happened

Commit yourself to one of them, do not open, do not thank

On the mountain at an altitude of more than 1,000 meters

I could feel the peaks in my body

Loneliness is a lake

The ephemera in the water are experiencing the life of the clouds

Sixteen lotus flowers bloom in the lake

It's so beautiful that it doesn't need a silhouette

The wind is their castle

And the lotus of the lotus is me

A paper boat-like body floating above the sky

Remote temples hide people looking in the mirror

Azaleas bloomed in his dreams

He skimmed the deep in the form of a bird

Stream, the moon in the daytime

Will wait for those who will follow the incense

Sixteen lotus flowers bloomed in the mountain of two people

Two people who had never met

Two bodies, two laws

The only thing that's amazing is that

We are all our own obstacles

He lives on his opposite side, and I

Suddenly, it appeared, wrapped in a water-like shell

Puppeteers

Sometimes I dream of puppets, dressed in old age

clothes. You shout it like a dynasty

Sometimes it comes to you with a familiar smell

You're at a loss

It is like a short flower blooming in the wild lotus of the wetland

The puppet was silent, the words it had said

Some people still have it in their mouths

What it drops has become a barrier to light

The people in my hometown never alarmed

Puppets, like decaying ant colonies

Never indulged in the shadow of the crow vine

Every dynasty had puppets who did not want to sleep

They hide in the smell of camphor trees

Or in the reflection of dusk, staring at the human world

Well water lifts and the top spirals

And the resurrected robin is leading

Paper people roaming the mountains and go to the soil to eat

Go to the dream to watch the play, in my hometown

You don't need to be surprised or cry for a puppet

They were orderly, knocking on a door

Take a few looks at old things, sometimes for a century

Sometimes it's just to take away the unprovoked one

Insert all the shadows of darkness

—END—

Yangtze River Literature and Art, No. 1, 2022

Responsible Editor | Ding East Asia

▲ Yu Changxiong |

Yu Changxiong, born in 1972, a native of Xiapu, Fujian Province, his works have appeared in more than 200 kinds of newspapers and magazines such as "Poetry Journal", "October", "Xinhua Digest", "People's Literature", etc., and his works have been selected into more than 100 anthologies such as "Selected Poems of the Post-70s", "Chinese Annual Poetry", "White Paper on Chinese New Poetry", "Literature China", etc., participated in the 26th Youth Poetry Conference of the Poetry Magazine, some works have been translated into English, Swedish, Arabic, etc. and introduced abroad, and have won the "2003 New Poetry Annual Award", "Jing Qiufeng Short Poem Award" and "Yan'an Literature Award". China Red Sorghum Poetry Award" and "Xu Zhimo Micro Poetry Award" and other awards, now living in Fuzhou.