Poetry scene 丨 Wang Feng: A beam of light pointed to me

A beam of light pointed to me

◎ Wang Feng

Part of the rain fell into the sky

Along the rock walls steeply with dark clouds, I saw

Bright things are climbing

It was part of the rain that fell into the sky

They are adsorbed on the tail of the scorpion

Or the bowstring of the hunter

Let the children who look up see both the stars

Also wet the forehead

As if Socrates took the Temple of Delphi

"Know thyself" comes out in a rain-like mute tone

Half said to the gods in the heavens

Half said to the mortals of the world

cumulonimbus

There are things in the world that arise from nothing

For example, you

Perhaps, just a breeze

From the surface of the sea, from deep wells

Dewdrops from May Night as well

Frost and snow after the rising sun

Unknowable forces gather calmly

In the sky of ignorance and unconsciousness

Nothingness from the vast universe has now become existence

No one knows

How much wind is hidden in your body

No one knows

How many dragons do you have in your backyard

That silent burning, the unknown trembling

Your soft changes, terrible tumbling

These fogs, winds, and tears that come and go without a trace

Maybe just to the earth

Pour out the love of a magnificent thunderbolt and heavy rain

Or maybe, just for the ultimate dissipation

Nothing, just like you

The confusion and emptiness of coming

The mountains of Zhuhai

Zhuhai's mountains are not high and are adjacent to the sea

Indigenous clouds, dressed in heavy rain pants

Bare back in the sun

Cycle back and forth between the sky and the surface of the sea

Those busy crowds were in the red dust

There was no time to take care of Scott Naismith's sky

And the hills

I don't understand the charm of the gauze skirt, and the silent grain hoard

At the best of times the mountains of Zhuhai

It makes me think about old things

A beam of light pointed to me

There is not a single cloud of clear space. The sun was just right

I drink the blue by the window

A beam of light from the sky, dressed in a transparent jacket

Through my dark silver lenses

It likes to be grabbed. It folds, it bends

Like a skinny child in a mother's arms

Suddenly: It's like walking into a dream in a certain century

This beam of light pointed to me

The distant mountains are connected to the distant mountains, and there is not a single household cooking smoke

The outskirts of the blue sky

The outskirts of Qingtian may be another central community

There are many ghosts that live there, including dead trees

And some broken stones

They talked: using something almost frozen

Tone, similar to ambiguous voice-overs

I sat in the cockpit, with strangers

Speak concisely with a headset. Occasionally

Take a sip of rock tea and gaze out the window

The two white clouds had just hugged each other

In an instant, he fled from the other person's body

As people often say, the wind through the hall

Where do these heartless things come from?

No name and no background. But

They can skillfully turn the golden spoon of time

Feel free to recall the lonely bells of the ancient temple

It is possible to willfully pull out the long nails that are rusted in the coffin

The sun sets like a basin

Sunset is like a pot this idiom

I haven't used it in years

An ordinary twilight

I watch the sea in the sky

Didn't see children running on the beach

Didn't see the couple under the coconut tree

All I saw was the sunset

It is mottled like a tidal flat

It is as painful as the sea

It made me see the sadness of the basin after it was broken

(Excerpted from the second half of Yanhe Magazine, No. 2, 2022)

Wang Feng was born in the 1970s and is a member of the Chinese Writers Association. Master of Business Administration, Huazhong University of Science and Technology. His poems have appeared in publications such as People's Literature, Poetry Journal, Poetry Monthly, Stars, Chinese Dictionary, and Fujian Literature. Published poems "Thirty Thousand Feet", "Fish Sleeping by the Stream", and "Skyline".