Call your name in the sound of the waves
And your name is beyond the thousand sails
The tides come and go
The shoe print on the left is only in the afternoon
The shoe print on the right is dusk
June was originally a very sentimental book
The ending was so poignant
- The sun sets in the west
You still stare
The man's eyes showed a pure white
He kneels to you
To the clouds of yesterday that beautiful afternoon
Hai Yo, why light up that dazed light alone among the lights
What else can you grab?
Your eyes, once called clouds
The existing person is called
smoke
- Love, "June was a very sentimental book"
Wake up too early, one June morning
But it was too late to go back to sleep
I had to go into the green of memory
Memories trailed me with their eyes
They are invisible
Melts completely into the background
A good group of discolored lizards
They were so close that I could hear their breathing
Through the deafening chirp of the flocks of birds
- (Sweden) Tronström, "Memory Sees Me"
Pillow not your own self to listen
Listen vaguely outside of yourself
And it is clearly within oneself
That June tide
Cold never gets cold in a cold place that has never been cold
The thousand-year-old riverbed, shrinking
Out of a bloated yawn
Put a bitter smile like snow tears
Sprinkle on a thin, black rose thorn
The first night of frost
Grapes and vines
Dream under the stars that meet but don't know each other
Dreaming that wheat bloomed in a stone field
Dreaming of dead trees singing and dancing, surrounded by fire
Dreaming of heaven is like a small sack
Jesus, on the other hand, was not the last to mend shoes for others
——Zhou Mengdi, "June"
The age of seventeen is romantic
A graceful dusk
In the café, the cups are jingling
There was a roar in the red of the wine green light
I wandered under the turquoise linden forest
The lime trees perfume on fragrant June nights
The air was so warm
I can't help but close my eyes
The breeze brought the noise of the street market
The city is not far away
The aroma of the vines is mixed with the aroma of beer
- (French) Rimbaud's Romance
The woman who accumulates water in June, the woman who hoards the moonlight
The woman in July, the woman who sells cotton
Under the tree in August, the woman who washes her ears
I heard a woman in the opposite window who was engaged in September
The engagement ring, like a damp chick in a pocket
The october woman blows out the fire on the plate at the wedding
Dark wooden doors floated down on the prairie
- Haizi, "From June to October"
The silence was emerald green and the light was damp
June flutters like a butterfly
And Mathilde, you're in the Southern Territory
Coming from the sea and the rocks
At noon, you carry a ship full of iron-bearing flowers
Seaweed abandoned by the south wind
And your white, still cracked hand from salt erosion
What was harvested was the grain of sand
I love your pure gift, your skin like a good stone
You point to a sunny gift: nails
Your mouth overflowing with joy
But, for my house next to the abyss
Please give me the system of distressing silence
Forgotten sea pavilions in the sand
- (Chile) Neruda, "Forty of a Hundred Sonnets of Love"
There was rain last night and fog this morning
The sea is too cold and the day is too long
I felt as if I were seeing your night voyage
On the white sea in the north
You can't see the ocean of fish
Can't hear the sound of water
There are no eyes under the sky
A frozen ocean is a tombstone
We started traveling, but not in the same sea
We were close to the sea, but not in the same boat
The summer that parted us was endless
Only the blazing rain was still burning
Heaven-given darkness always arrives suddenly
It's not just the cold of June that shades it
I turned off the lights in the dimly lit room
Just to see the night farther away
——Wang Yin, "Last Night There Was Rain, This Morning There Was Fog"
Day after day
Something is secretly approaching you
Sit down, take a walk
Watch the leaves fall, watch the light rain fall
Watch a man walk down the street
Summer is still far away
It's so fast, it disappears as soon as you're born
All the goodness comes in on a October night
It's so beautiful that I don't notice it
Great tranquility like your clean cloth shoes
At the bedside, the past is faint and gentle
Like an old box, a faded bookmark
Chance encounter, may not be able to remember
It was a little cold outside
The left hand was also tired, and secretly went all the way to the left
Isolated and deep
That only idiotic thought
No more, often tantrums, often love
Pick up the bad habits of the past and be discouraged year after year
Small bamboo building, white shirt
You are not the right year
It's rare to have the next resolution
——Bai Hua, "Summer is still far away"
It's a winter day
It's also a midsummer day
This is still time and a time when there is still time
A time for a world where there are no more passers-by
A time to give a face that has never had an expression
A time to give an expression that has never had a face
And you are different
You are in my memory
Like a blind spot of rain
- Lu De'an, "Fit for It"