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Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Editor's Note On January 31, 2021, the Fourth National Member Congress of the Chinese Poetry Society was successfully held, and 170 people were elected as members of the Fourth Council of the Chinese Poetry Society. This WeChat public account will select the selected poems of directors and members on the basis of merit for the benefit of readers.

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Cai Zansheng, born in July 1976, a native of Lufeng, Guangdong, is a senior chinese teacher in high school. He is a member of the Guangdong Writers Association, a member of the Chinese Poetry Society, and the vice president of the Shanwei Poetry Society. In the early 1990s, he began to create and publish works, and successively published poems, essays, and reviews in dozens of newspapers and periodicals such as "Star Poetry Journal", "Poetry Monthly", "Selected Poems", "Green Wind", "Works", "Source Stream", "South", "Golden Age", "Chinese Culture Newspaper", "Yangcheng Evening News", etc., participated in the compilation of "Moral Lecture Hall", "Cultural Language - Lu Feng Humanistic Reader", "Lu Feng Humanistic Style Series", "Living Memory", "Spiritual Symbols", etc., and has published personal poetry collections "God of Life", "Poems on fingertips", "Poetry on the Fingertips", "Poetry on the Fingertips", etc. The reason the eagle flew over".

Star train in opposite directions

Cai Zansheng

Teenager with horse

When a horse runs out of the heart

I tried to describe a line of hoofs, and the vocabulary brought me into the rhetorical trap

Teenagers don't need too many words

Gaze through the golden

The sea floods over the summit

Machete, cross-cutting knife. The feathers on the jingjing are naturally sung by the wind

The waves of every day of the teenager are rushing. Gestures

It's like a winter scene. I paused

There is a momentary trance

Then the corners of the mouth rise slightly

I'm not in a hurry to live with each other

Look for a response

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Photo by Jiang Bohan

run

Unconsciously, he lived in the opposite direction of himself

Often forgot to bring the footprints back.

None of them spoke, we could hear

Only the wash of the sea.

Hitting himself, even the stones cried

Rain is hidden in the bottom of the heart, lightning and thunder can be

Used to polish eyes. Look up again and the stars and moons are embedded

All the sounds come to you

The heart is honest, and where the calling is unknown

Dragging a weightless body

I'm also destined for a run

Say

Say. When we say it, we are experiencing loss

Say that tomorrow's feet will become strong

Say the multicolored light you wear when you run

Everything, in such a vast vessel

The universe let go of its own reflection

When we say it, it's not because of sadness.

Or another summon

It's like throwing yourself into another place where you need to go

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Please

Ignored, even when approaching the answer

Stop and go, staring at one of the flowers in the sky

After all, it is humble and distorted

It is not enough to wash the pot. It's just that

Such a rush is not enough

The thunder outside the window pierced through the mute and fell in

Dim well edge.

How many stumbling steps

Can please the empty echo

Repentance

Even in winter, you can breathe savagely

Sit like a frosted dwarf fir

The heavens and the earth are very small, and every stubble is a black and white pawn

The point is in the corner of the chessboard, and there is no winner or loser

A cool shiver under the blade

The ice on my forehead woke me up

That excitement lasts longer than the thunder of summer

More power

In the early morning of middle age, it is like when I was young again

Full of barbaric plunder, disdainfully accepted quietly

The giving of life

It always seems, like to be unreasonable

Including remorse. Frostbite is woken up

Get rid of the dead and come back to life

Leave suspense behind. Re-disk it for you

The odds of victory

Stupid bird sky

It's not the sky that's where you see

Thanks for life, fairly for every one

Clumsy birds

Sufficiently low branches were prepared.

Life sometimes can't afford it

The dreamer's throne. Includes a campfire for moths

It was like the moment I remembered the distance, subconsciously

Tight sleeves

Lift the weight-bearing wings and draw an arc

Then freeze in mid-air. wind

Also stopped clapping

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

on the way

There are villages along the way that there are illusions

It's not just me alone

Time that cannot be recovered

A carriage carrying empty bags of rice

Go farther and farther

The night brought me into every possibility

My face grew wider

One side is in daylight and the other side is by your river.

Connecting words with the sky,

Tear the sides of the face farther away

Also find that under your frame

It's all my garden.

I don't believe in the blue sky from afar,

Nor are the stars pillows or dreams.

I only believe in the lenses, believe in you

Only a little meaning of existence is soaked in water.

I'm on this side. Life at this moment

It was a reclining in the daylight to climb the mirror of the night sky

The ladder.

It's better to have no place to live. Feet, have a section

A summer day that has never been set foot in the distance

The body, into someone else's verse

Spring that has never been described.

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Star train in opposite directions

Look out from the carriage

The steep stars are in full view

Which constellation is the next stop. The interstellar train that is in flight,

There is a curfew of hundreds of millions of light-years in between.

Had to wait until arrival

Only to know that the right to return has been lost, as is the case

Tonight's gray hair, sore feet

Decipher all sparks, if not with woodcut eyes

One extra minute

More delay than lost youth.

This minute, by the faint light

Salvation from the fall of a certain dimension in the mortal world

The light falls

The light fell deeply

The light falls because, not only on the branches.

Scratched, or torn a corner

Many are focused and bowed

In the sound of the wind, on the banks of the river

Mixed with shouting, your face is getting thinner

In concentration or dizziness

The train can be a warm noun

The contact between the ticket stub and the two ends dissolved

A glass of wine

Shake the drip without spilling.

How weak the vessel is to time, and so is the vocabulary.

The light falls for another mood. Years later

You still feel cold, it's okay

We also have excuses for being busy.

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

A pinch of nuts

With a shell, or wilting. A pinch of nuts

Timidly close

Crack after maturity

Carelessly completely naked in your horizon

Great compassion, shining

Don't think I need you to be so cold and

hard

At the shoulders of the dark green cape, the ochre-colored hembos

The eyes are clearly marked with traces of past lives

A pinch of time. Enough to go back in time

Ingested smells, open dreams

Unwilling to smooth out again. Scattered nuts

Humble close to dust. Freshly baked tea

Still like your summer heart

sound

Usual. Or dripping

Thinking of you so calmly. Not offensive

The wood hibiscus in the bushes and the bauhinia flowers next to the road dripped

Smokeless rain, drifting to the ground

The sound of herons and the light touch of the lake

An unprecedented experience that can be heard when looking up.

I turned away, your shadow cast in the petals

Cai Zansheng: The interstellar train that runs on opposite | poets choose themselves

Blunt saw

Origins, a few lines of Iron Age messages

Each line corresponds to the impossibility.

Hammered or hammered, I was in a numbness that could not shout,

Falling in love is impossible

Poor or deserted, get used to it and accept it

The teeth of the years are white

Your hair is mixed with ash

Progressive form. unconsciously

All afternoon, listen to a blunt saw

Pulling back and forth

Pull through the void, the same dance in the same winter

Incinerate a different paperweight

On the paper are half-familiar Scriptures.

Your fear or helplessness stops at the corner of life

Sawing out a different pain

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