Cai Xiaole's poems
Cai Xiaole, a native of Anhui, is a young poet and translator. He graduated from the German Department of the university of Chinese and the german literature department of the university of Tübingen, Germany. Won the "Silver Sunflower" Award at the Beijing Poetry Festival. Monograph "Notes on the Lamentations of Duino" ("Classics and Interpretations", 2021); translation of "Selected Short Stories of Kafka" (Mill Iron Books, forthcoming).
Public banquet poems
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He sat down behind the table, sinking his shoulders and falling elbows—
The guests were also as respectful as bottles.
Like a small storm, embedded in the lights,
Quietly guard a scenic spot
- The moon is silent
They are melting themselves into the past, too
Over the fruit plate on the table, looking far into your own heart,
It seems that it is not the heart, it is the end of the disease
One corridor, too many twists
At one point, people will collide with themselves and sprout
The thought of happiness. When he sat down at the table,
I was out of my mind, holding my cheeks, like people carrying plates.
He didn't know it was all over.
Only now, the moon is filled with suspense in the wine jug,
He didn't know what would happen if he drank it, or not
His heart will darken,
Just as all the verses of the night are gathered at this moment,
The stars also draw familiar trajectories in the sky,
Just memories, memories, like a fire
Instantly, they will also be swallowed up.
2020.01.17, Feidong, Anhui
Kafka on a hospital bed
------------------------------ After reading Sontag's "Metaphors of Disease"
There was an unfinished manuscript lying on it
Stuck bullets – a word stuck in the throat,
Take it out with forceps. Late at night, nurse
Also guarded by the bed. Stay up late to pack up
The endgame of his flesh is still not divided into victory and defeat.
But the hastily concluded handkerchief has been recorded
His breath of rout. It's fast and messy
Like he wrote the last sentence on paper.
He wrote: "Kafka in the hospital bed,
No one can come up with a word. ”
Before he could finish writing, he put it aside, and he knew,
The rest of the days are as sparse as air
I haven't recognized myself from the manuscript yet,
This strange disease had made him light.
He clutched the blood-stained handkerchief as if pinching it
A jammed bullet, taken out with forceps.
Canon
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The heart of the line regresses
The cages they folded,
Baggy. Just as the lungs are discharged,
The swollen nostrils do not expel emphysema.
Let the friends in the audience sit down,
The cassette squeaks, rat's
The family stripped The Cannon
A coat in the form of a coat,
Not enough for him to go on stage and play a set
tai chi. He went backwards,
Was a prison guard
Grasp in the palm of your hand. Constantly escaping
They will still be captured,
And he gradually understood
I stumbled into an entrance.
The entrance is melted, dissolved
The gate is salivating,
No one dares to approach easily,
His loose and crumbling body,
Decorated with heart, lungs, spleen, stomach.
The ribs support the lanterns,
Baggy. The lobes of his lungs
Still calling the night
There are sentries floating everywhere.
They lined up and retreated towards them
Cells outside of time,
Long destroyed. Runaway criminals
Step into the river of crime again
The prisoner who flows to the flowing water,
The iron cell is in time,
The rat is biting open a brand new cannon
Then rewind from the ending
Only the rats' families could be heard squeaking
The line retreated into the darkness
One side shouted
Provoke those floating sentries.
2021.3.16
Pirate Song
The crowd raised their anchors, and the sky was just out
Blood dripping from the ribs. Coastline,
The net of the sea has been netted
This small island where pirates jumped.
Square roofs, strings of streets,
There are also those who have just started a fire and are bubbling with smoke
Taolin, we have exhausted,
Even the windy top of the island.
The wind was just right and turned the land red
Blown behind us, the angels escorted
They have white paws, one by one
It was parked at the bow of our boat.
Dada's motor cooperates with the seawater,
Play a uniform quartet,
The boatmen smoked cigarettes, burlap on their faces
The sea breeze tore holes.
We dialed up the island, this piece
The stubborn disease of the sea is worse than the one that grows on the surface of the sea
Tumors are even uglier. We have bloody machetes
The wailing of the earth echoed.
The sea, the sea, you are always launching
Jet boats, loaded
Merchants, and seafood that died their way,
How small we, the people of the bullets, are.
Ah how much we love you, bottom of the boat
Glide on your skin. Bring us to it,
Bring to the merchant ships and the gold and silver scattered on you,
Don't have the swirls of the navel and the cries of the storm.
2021.4.7
Dalí's dinner
After eating many fish, the fish bones are exceeded
Bone-chilling weather, starting with some axis of symmetry
The cold wave that rose up was better than the window facing the street in the restaurant
Also empty. Many pedestrians passed
The streets are gradually hollowed out, like old teeth
and calcified thoughts. Years of habit
Gradually, he also became crooked, and he ate more and more unkindly
East piece, west piece, music in the restaurant
It is also no longer played in order. The notes are all messed up
But it's still the rich flavor he loves.
It's like this fish soup
It takes countless lonely sunsets
in order to taste the end of time,
At that time, he was an old man, just like you and me
It was all a group of old people, walking by the sea
The coolness of the evening sea hits.
June 18, 2021
Yu Hanzhang's poems
Yu Hanzhang, graduated from North China University of Technology, was the president of the Gear Poetry Society. His works have been scattered in "Guan Wu", "Poetry Journal", "Shi Lin" and so on.
spring breeze
——— to Ariel
With a winter of snow
Go meet and blow the classic spring breeze
And then all the pleasure is imitated
The first loss: I was afraid of it
Lose the opportunity to fall with you
Originally in the fly dissolved some
So the rain is bold, to bite the earlobes
The sound is a little crisper than sweet shoots
Pack the ring out of the flowers, or not at all
There is a kind of rose, the leaves wrinkled like the face of an old man
It's about naming it
As for the order of scolding and cleaning up
Be brought into a sense of thought
The spring breeze has become your past document
Open billions of languages in one word
There is still some distance from the emptiness
Start sitting in the city of sorrow. Maybe fate
It's hidden in a whisper
I open the levee when you face the flood
Laugh from time to time, grinding wisdom about two hearts
Although there is no rumor, it will still be in the world's wings
Sluggish. Little Lantern, get a good night's sleep
Osmanthus opened her mouth and thought more and more softly
Thought and thought, from purple to good
It's all your brilliance
Standing in the sea to practice
Maybe it's not just standing
To make people feel at ease, sometimes
Had to choose the gesture
It is a secret that opens the world
key. The news came from shrimp and clams
The way to swim
The shrimp bounced backwards like bullets
It decisively hits the desire to be born
And the clumsy look of carrying a hard shell
This is exactly what it says: it is the bitter salty sea
It is what makes such a sweet heart
echo
The sun finds the crevices of life;
Break through the head ring woven from branches, from the inside
Rediscover the complexity of memory
Everywhere the air is mixed with liquor, whiskey, brandy
There are also some syrups and peels
A little earlier than the dazzling chicken tail, it is burned into wall tiles
In the city of time, texture is not limited to ink and salutation
A dream stacked up by experience
The road, sometimes weakly twisted and vomited
But through the medium of hope
The force that sustains you to stand up constitutes destiny
Care for your evidence
Deep in the mountains with a smile
Come and say goodbye to this cliff of mine tonight
Before the implementation of the shelved decision, worry
It rains on people who are stranded at home drunk
It will work again if there is no water under the cliff
Who's going to ask you if you jump or not?
The broken fallen leaves flew up, slowly
You will become very alert
"Those trees, flowers, grasses, wild animals
All gives you insight.
The sweat of the tree was stifled by the unnecessary avoidance
There are also the eyes of casual people
The little gorge is windy from morning to night
The sand at the bottom squinted, waiting for me to catch a cold
But not yet able to leave. acrophobia
After blanching the water went some bitterness
It was also blown too hard by the cool breeze
Am I jumping or not jumping?
Empty to a cliff, maybe not
How to jump
Poet coward
Yuanhai begged for ice, and looked at it twice
Not clear, because of drinking at some poets
They weren't very drunk, they were drunk
Embarrassment may be cute: fainting young man
Remembering the meaning of summer
Its ambiguity and harmony are all over the place
Crouch on the west bank of a creek that is not counted
Nor did he dare to stand up and embrace the wind
This little daredevil did not dare not be bitter
Maybe everyone advises: don't cry
Isn't the weather very polite?
Suddenly an arrow pierced the heart
The sunset is a little dizzy
The shadow may not be quite right
Self-talk, comfort and laziness
You have also been covered with some lotus flowers
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