Li Qi's poems, read these twenty | exclusive

Five brass buckles

Pack up old things and find an envelope

Five golden brass buckles

Oh my God, they're still there

The past of his youth shines brightly

It was the first time in my life

Accept gifts from the opposite sex

That boy, must have been painstaking

Find out this gift

He was eleven, I was ten

He knew I liked it then

Shiny stuff

It's exactly the same as it was then

They have never been used

In the corner of the box, silent memories

And the two children of the year

Circulating in time and dust, gathering and dispersing in the world

Each experienced grinding and abrasions

It's all a thing of the past

I, in particular, have long since stopped liking it

Those shiny things. Time has changed

One of the signs of growing up is in me

It's about the things that are dazzling and dazzling

Choose to be distant and be wary

Play checkers with your mother

Both sides sit upright and the chess game begins

It's like a skit

Mother plays the strategist general

I, on the other hand, have to show anxiety and hard thinking

The song is pleasant, but also silent

She did whatever she wanted, and she wanted to go wherever she wanted

However, they were not in a hurry to penetrate directly into the enemy camp

Seems to be very good at chasing and blocking

As if the victory was real, it was not easy to come by

The ending, of course, was that I was defeated again and again

As a winner, she also generously said two words of relief

Victory or defeat is a common affair

The pride on his face could not be concealed

As the sun sets, mother and daughter play against each other

How long will this scenario be

I can't help but feel sad —

Mom, she looks excited

Cognitive impairment is getting worse

She didn't know yet, the big picture was set

On the chessboard, she took one step, one step less

Life is fading away

Farewell to Huangshan

Minus 25 degrees, yellow chrysanthemum in hand

It freezes in a matter of seconds and is instantly fixed

Revealing the awe-inspiring semantics of the word cold

Huangshan Cemetery, Yinfang District

My friend's last place to live

I have been going to China for many years and have experienced ups and downs

Like a suspenseful movie

This time, the protagonist becomes ashes

Brought back by his son

My son is really like you, tall and burly

The contours of the face, showing genes

He held his father's ashes and reminded me

When he was a kid, you held him the way he looked

The children hugged us one by one

He suddenly choked: I know

Why did Dad come back

Broken marriage, a foreign country

All kinds of sudden blows, experienced ups and downs

A man who is driven by fate and keeps moving

Every address hides scars

This time, your address doesn't change anymore

Love and hate are all gone

You said that except for life and death, it is all small things

Now, you've accomplished both of the big things

I remembered thirty years ago, and it was also winter

In the snow of Harbin, you open your arms

Great show off on the bike

Full of frost flowers, that radiant look

At this point, everything will be transformed into stillness

Those bitterness, those days of biting

All turned into snowflakes, gracefully and soothingly

Winter that falls in the hometown

You look at us on the statue, Pengren

In this group, only you are smiling

Lost earrings

A female writer, cute and careless

This time, she took another emerald earring

Lost in Henan. hotel? on the road?

I can't remember exactly, and I can't tell

Everyone was concerned, but she downplayed it

And what can be retained forever?

She had lost more expensive jewelry

The free mother said that if you lose it, you will lose it

Nothing will always belong to you

I'm used to cranky, I thought

That earring, will it

Something touched its memory

Some kind of summoning, causing it to mysteriously disappear

Perennial on the sideburns of female writers

It has a tacit understanding with the idyllic owner

This time, he flew from Suzhou to Luoyang

Above the style of Gangnam, new light and pulp

Will be slowly, in ancient Henan infiltration generation

The taste of perfume

Mother is old

It is no longer taboo to talk about death

She was getting more and more confused

But there are often strange thoughts

For example, she knew

If she dies, I will be on Qingming Day

Go to the cemetery to see her

Oops, there will be a lot of people that day

She began to worry: I had a bad look

Will I not recognize you?

I tease her, your nose is good

You can remember the taste of my perfume

She suddenly realized that she was suddenly sure

Then, she would often

Pick up my clothes or scarf

Forcefully, smell for a while

Care

The Yibin earthquake affected Sichuan and Chongqing

Aftershocks are frequent and the level is repeatedly raised

The names of those epicenters, the epicenters

It's frustrating

Where you live with friends, you can't have bad news

Although, there is no thermal connection between the plains

But that's the one who worries you

Almost all of them are poets, grass mustard in the sky

They all look different, but they all have good hearts

For me, these are the ones

The most moving scenic spot in Sichuan-Chongqing

Don't be safe, no one should have an accident

My friend, I wish you all peace of mind

Survival is already hard work

Endure, swallow, endure and wait

Beyond the catastrophe, we have not accepted it in disgrace

The rationing of life is unbearable and mediocre

I was full of sympathy for myself

I was full of sympathy for myself

In this city where I have lived almost all my life

It is difficult to find any traces of the past

Kindergartens, primary schools, secondary schools, universities

Or disappear, or migrate, or look beyond recognition

Together with those moving old buildings, churches, small streets

There are fewer and fewer places that make you look out of your mind

The things that make you angry are endless

The eraser is huge and rude

The old time body is inexhaustible and is being wiped away one by one

The past has no branches to inhabit, in the canyon of memory

But there are still peaks, flowing water, cliffs and caves

Those looming details, those

The voices of yesteryear are ticking

Fall on the stalactites of the mind

I used to stand in front of old sites

Silently chanting some names. Childhood companions

Teacher, classmate, adolescent lover

You, you, and the smells, the smells

They come from classrooms, playgrounds, and cinemas

The girls' dormitory of that year, there is also

The arms of a boy who had made his heart beat faster

Yes, "everything will be a thing of the past"

But this hurtful speed, this kind of impatience

Wrapped in too much roughness, pettiness, cold-bloodedness and contempt

It's as if we don't deserve it anymore

To have the past, you must come from an unknown source

Looking at those passing years, the flowers fall and flow

History and memory, first lose the dome, then lose the four walls

Turned into grass mustard powder, it seems to be worthless at all

Frost flowers

Look out from the window in front of you

There is always a road to be seen

The road is vast and paved with words

The road is cold to the bone and leads straight to Siberia

Frost flowers are so bizarre, some headshots

Both form and spirit, even including certain characteristics

This window is magical

Directly to that bygone era

Suffering, terror, widespread repression

Loyal, persistent, indomitable undead

Some fragments are gradually presented in this frost flower

Those handwritten, Russian-language names

It was once bluntly turned into a number

Along with their voices, their works

Forbidden, cursed, brutally ravaged

Many people, not even the graves, are left

When asked about the whereabouts, the answer was blunt and indifferent: there were no bones left

Many years later, many corners of the world

There are still people who read those words from their native languages

Is it just the magic of writing? This encounter

It is an electric stone fire, it is to look up at the starry sky

It is the eternal appearance, it is the can't help but choke

Suddenly, I believed that there were gods in this world

Today, Itachi, Harbin is minus 33 degrees

The coldest seasons, think of those

People who have lived through the harshest times in the world

They are snowflakes—trampled into the mud, said to be black

It was like it was shattered, like being smashed into hell

But you see, they're back, and they're from heaven

White, graceful, with a gentle trembling

I believe it was fate that led me into the steppe

After pastures, felt houses, Naadam

After hand-grilled meat, spirits, and milk tea

How blue is this day

A flower bowl filled with milk wine

A frost-stained robe

A sound of undulating cattle and sheep

A figure leaning on horseback

Some moving customs

Everything is trivial

This is called the Chenbal Tiger Right Banner

Let the wind blow

Let the sun shine

Try to say to the minimum

Gaze in one direction for a long time

There is unspeakable good

Horses drinking water

Sheep grazing

Everything is so reliable

At this moment, what happens will make people believe

For example, seeing a cow weep because of its sadness

Like the yellow dog lying in front of the felt room

Suddenly call out your name

Vast grasslands

It's like infinity

A dumb-throated shepherd with a sluggish long tone

But it can fill it up

A world that has disappointed me

It's a lot of sky here again

Let me believe

Write down your names

All afternoon. The snow kept falling

It's like a poem entering the narrative part

I use the best words I can write

On the paper, several names are repeated

Over and over again, I wanted to write these names alive

Let them leave the cold tombstones

Even if it's just one afternoon

Even if it's just, this brief moment

I love these names. This love is somber for a long time

Like an incurable disease

When you are there

I don't even think it's a luxury to have you

Everything works fine. Joy and sorrow

I'm used to sharing it with you

I don't know, in fact I already am

People who have rare treasures

Little accident

It will scratch my days in a big way

You have left one after another

It was like deliberately letting me see

The power of defects

Separately faded away in different seasons

I always

When heavy snow is falling

I think of you all

Your voice and smile, your goodness

You're different

Including those, some people simply don't deserve

Cons and glitches

The lost time is like a dream

I watched the dream go away

The undead are slowly returning to visit

As usual, I came to my house to sit firmly

They stood silently, my window ledge

As people say, I am becoming increasingly lonely

Because you have taken away my desire to talk

Those eyes and expressions no longer appeared

I just don't believe it anymore

There are really miracles in the world

Your names

Lying so pretty on white paper

It's like snowflakes fluttering outside the window

The snowflake was small and thin

But I know

They've run out

Maximum strength

White chrysanthemum

In 1996

The years begin with a bouquet of white chrysanthemums

Every day, bathe it with water and eyes

Chaste flowers

Like a reclining bird

It doesn't fly away because it acts as a flower

Can only fly on the branches

I've been worried since the beginning

It opens its own desire so passionately

Simple and welcoming Spotlessly clean

Does it know that sacrifice has already begun

I know that flowers also have bones

It is weak but stubbornly lyrical

Reminiscent of a poet with a simple gaze

opening

This is a wish that no one can stop

From glory to withering

A holy last word for a lifetime

A lifetime of spiritual snowfall

Tonight my white chrysanthemum

Like a sleeping child

Naturally slackens the arms

Outside the window, there was a lot of snow

That's what Bai Ju looks like

In 1996

Pick up a collection of Chang Yao's poems

A meeting

Your book is treated as a gift

Distributed to these people who came to the meeting

(Never before has there been such a grand courtesy.)

If you live

Must have been surprised by this)

The meeting was adjourned, and I saw it in several rooms

Those books are like you were when you were alive

Lonely in the corner

People are too heavy

They always prefer

Those light things

Because of the ugly world style

Everywhere there is a glimpse of light

How light is a poet's name

Light as a butterfly's wings

Light as air on a wing

Chang Yao, a poet of bitter fate

"A tender ash"

You are really like your own verse

Your loneliness your desolation your secluded light

People like you

How can it not become a kind of far away

In fact, long before it became a corpse

That clear figure

A call has been followed

Gradually, it disappeared from the crowd

It's just that this disappearance is quiet and slow

So we didn't notice it

I silently picked up the poet's collection of essays

Thinking of that time, shake his hand

He was shy and quiet

Sheep-like look

Think of this conference, which is called a grand event

Thinking of the statement I just heard at the meeting

Speakers were stunned

Being said

Why we lost

In 2002

When you get older

When you get old, you must get better

Be the best you can be

It's like a melon fruit ripening and fireworks in the air

Soothingly releases the final beauty

The last incense and love

Finally, go the extra mile

When you get old, you need to be calm

It's like a river entering the sea, like an old tree with a strong waist

Looking back, everything is calm

Everything is selected

No more long sighs, hands spread

The left hand is full of experience, and the right hand is full of lessons

When you get old, it's like the end of a famous corner

Humble posture, self-confidence in the heart

The corners of the eyes are furrowed, and the calm after the experience is hidden deeply

The curtain is hanging down, and the sound of silk and bamboo is far away

Everything is already passing through the clouds

Only the light of dignity shines in the twilight of the day

When you get older, it is time to get up and return to the children

It may not be a childlike face, but it is closer to frankness and innocence

We are getting older, and the world is still young and beautiful

It all went back and forth, and the baby was crying

And the human world that has brought us smiles and tears

Another round of reincarnation is taking place in the sound

In 2008

That's the time

I seem to have done only three things

Finish reading, raise your children, and grow yourself old

As a teenager, I fantasized about traveling the world

Today, even the province where I live

I'm not done

The so-called payment is also very simple

Salt in sweat, bitterness in tears

And the flowers in the smile

I spend years with each other

The accounts are basically clear

There are three things

Still not much has changed

Love of poetry, concern for loved ones

Also, mention the word truth

Deep inside, that unbearable excitement

In 2011

Wind at the top of the mountain

No one has seen it, but it is so real

exist. Like a thought

This invisible thing, right now

It is as gentle as a silk handkerchief

But in the end it is the wind, unpredictable

As long as it wants, it will put those

Described as indestructible

Instantly, it becomes precarious

The wind at the top of the mountain, at this time

He was leaning over the smallest flower

I don't know what they communicated

I saw that flower was fascinated

I want to bloom as much as I can

until crushed

In 2013

Alpine land

Alpine land, full of details

The harsh seasons are not monotonous

You can see the naked mysteries between heaven and earth

You can hear, the voice of winter

North Wind is a rock singer with long hair

He is singing indulgently with his band

Shocking, psychedelic, exhausting

The passion that pervades people cannot live in peace

And the dancers of the snowflakes make people soft-hearted

Each of them is as small as the smallest

There are still arms and toes, and the waxing moon dances

The body is light and the dance is soothing

Winters like this, day after day

I don't even believe it anymore sometimes

There are really four seasons - spring light, willows

It has become something of a long time ago

Think of Siberia, the Gulag Archipelago

Listening to the title is more like a place for vacation

Wind and snow, labor, will be free to freeze

The wasteland is covered with the hearts and destinies of many people

It's freezing cold, and everything needs to be careful

Every winter, I know it

Cotton clothes should be thick and boots should be warm

This world, cold is cold

If you sink your mind throughout the winter

Just know, in fact, nothing is so important

Before us, the world was prosperous or desolate

After us, the year came heavy snow and north winds

Look out the window on a snowy night

Watch cars pass by like all kinds of insects

Watch a couple who are not afraid of the cold pass by

They snuggled up, as if they were on the side of each other's heads

Watch a drunk man shake past

Half-hearted, like a Chinese character that is being dismantled

Watch a piece of paper pass by

Watch a broken hat pass by without permission

Watch the north wind pass by

Watch the moonlight pass by

Look at the last days of 2014

And so it went

In a few years, there will also be snow and wind nights

This position where I am standing at this point

Who would be expecting. He or she

Can you think of, once upon a time, an ordinary poet?

The heart is heavy, and it has passed through this world

Thinking of this scene, I raised my hand

It's an early time to say hello to future generations

In 2014

world

Once upon a time, I was young and especially loved to talk about the world

My yearning and curiosity are boundless

The world is big, there are too many places to go

Every time I traveled, I was a little flustered with excitement

Today, my world

Specific and trivial, at your fingertips

It's the food and drink in front of you

Including frequented pharmacies, bookstores, supermarkets

Elderly parents are the whole of Asia

Be content to listen, the mother's preface does not match the afterword

Be cautious and patient, and support your father who can't take care of himself

Got out of bed with difficulty and sat down in his old chair

The time of flowing water, the world of iron

I seem to have followed the rules and felt cold

But still under the eyes of the world, imagining the world

The world, your vast, gorgeous, mysterious

Your beauty is beautiful, your dangers are everywhere

Includes all kinds of regrets generated by you

Still so seductive —

Your gravitational sinking summons

Your unfathomable, your unreachable

August 2017

magpie

Born as a bird, it can fly and it makes a chirping sound

It is considered happy. especially

This group, even must be happy

Because they are called magpies

The magpie did not know his name

They stood wiltingly on the branches, preoccupied

Even if standing very high, now

The smog was so heavy that I couldn't see very far

The wings of the dress, full of dust

Compared to their ancestors, they are indeed too unlucky

No way, we're in trouble

They met us

yak

They appear suddenly

Rise up like the earth

It is like a group of ancient people wearing dark leather coats

Silence passed, passing through the modern era

You can't treat a cat or a dog like you would

Tease it and say something casually intimate

It is a large animal, mighty and awe-inspiring

The plateau of tacit understanding, the vicissitudes of seeing

It is a lesson for the universe and all things

It's awful

Primitive and ancient species, for generations

Content to endure cold, suffering, boundless loneliness

They may never have longed to grow wings,

Because all the time, I have lived in a high place

A group of yaks came, the avenue was like a blue sky, and the sunset was like blood

A herd of yaks drifted away, and the word "vast" itself began to manifest

December 2017