Poetry Space | Lei Pingyang: Clocks in ice cubes (10 songs)

Clock in the ice

(10 songs)

□ Lei Pingyang

Ponds

I inherited a sum that can only be described

Heritage: the surroundings of the pond

Artemisia, hemp, and wisteria grow in various destinies

There is duckweed on the surface of the water, but let the backwater

Even more silent is the layers of the void

Layers of decaying plain trees and fallen leaves of beech trees

Between the water surface and the dome, several bunches hang obliquely

Sunlight from the jungle

Swarms of butterflies, flickering, ascended from there into heaven

They didn't replace me, and I was still sitting at the bottom of a tree

It was pitch black, but soft inside

It was as if an elephant was running through my veins

Small kingdom

Two mounds left behind by the bulldozer

Glass was so thick that it accumulated around it

A thin layer of water. Weeds grow quickly

The layout and length are dense

The beauty of the heart stems from the theory of self-destruction

As long as we clear the memory of the lake and mountain scene

Look only at them and don't cross the border

Like a giant holding a bonsai in his hand

As an inaccessible country

The world in front of you is a wonderland

Two mountains sink in a reflected sea of clouds, clouds

Grow grass. The lone bird with two bodies

Fly or peck. A frog walks underwater

Thought to dive very deep but green back

Exposed, dragging behind

Muddy water waves. Another frog

Crouching on the mound and shouting, quite like

People living in Lone Peak pay homage to the sky with bright voices

I get addicted to something like that every day

Small kingdoms, which are made up of different substances

There is a very different sense of existence, which can be seen everywhere at the same time

Hidden in the invisible, extinguished in the blink of an eye

When the giants — the work of the wild is full of exudation

Gasoline-smelling workers – wearing water boots

Walk over the water with your feet

Kick the mound hard. One who is powerless to protect himself

Only the United States was immediately shattered. So I do it every day

There is the pain of national subjugation, but it stops at silence

Standing on the edge of a pool of water

It's like standing outside a kingdom

Dusk

At dusk, see the egrets up close

Leisurely open your wings

Flying low in front of you, your body floating

One pain, one emptiness: it is clear that it is his soul during the day

Flew away. At the same time, where the egret flew away

Suddenly, an oncoming person appeared

The light of the setting sun shone on him, and he could not see his face clearly

Like a ball of light with a human form, it got closer and closer

When the two figures meet

The body shook, sank, and closed

It is clear that the soul of his own night has returned

Sunflowers in autumn

The unrivaled beauty of unity

It once swirled and bloomed on the sky of the sky

Guided all things in the sky of the sky

It once became a symbol of a beautiful soul under the sky

I cycled through there at dusk

- Under the dark red sky

Abandoned sunflower tall grass

The color turns black, the stems, leaves, and cake

Looks like unusual pig iron. Sharp, violent

Decadent, yet scorched to the touch

Like a senseless thing that was snatched back in a fire

Relics: Beauty and its time and aesthetic movement

Taking away the miracle of the flowers, only the support of beauty remains

Scrap cold weapons and ugly ghosts

At the end of the sunflower field, there stand willow trees

Cypress and poplar. Sunset

Twilight motorcycles are driving into the golden village

People cook, visit friends, drink, sing flower lanterns

Catch a temple fair under your own eaves

The beauty of the world permeates every antenna

Every alley and every wall

I stopped at a mound, between the virtual and the real

Find yourself unable to lean on either side

And neither side is enough to convince me with beauty

Live on top of life

Live in the midst of life

Live underneath the life

I'm not there, but outside of life

There is the silence of abandonment, the grief of rejection

The axis of inner truth has become thinner and thinner

Like this wire inserted in the ground for unknown purposes

As soon as the wind blew, it sent out a violent tremor

I don't know what's hurting

It can only be said to be a soul

Two of Scotland's Inland Seas

The lone peaks were all flattened, and so were the peaks. curve

There can be no salvation in the flat world, except in the world

It will be hidden in popular philosophy in the image of a huge wave

I was born on a cliff, in an out-of-control balloon in the wind

Grow up and become an old man. But see the birthplace of the wind and waves

The wind and waves were also calm, and my heart was suddenly deeply disturbed

It's like reading a lengthy book of darkness

Read to the last page – see

A hundred moons hung from a dead Bodhi tree

Four of scotland's inland seas

Light fell vertically from behind the black clouds

It was like a huge white wave rising from the bottom of the sea, from behind the black clouds

Go to the sky. Get the light or send out the big waves

The surface of the sea tensed up, trembling slightly

- There is a requiem in every wave in the sea

The requiem beneath the surface of the sea never subsides like an undercurrent

- Every drop of water in the sea has a candle on fire

The flames of pilgrimage beneath the surface burn the sea hot

The sea in the early morning is a round drum

The shipwreck's mast in the drum barrel is frantically tapping upwards on the drum surface

I sneaked out of the monastery, masked, restlessly

Looking at the huge waves of light, the canopy was repeatedly pulled open and pulled together

One of the fried fish

Rejoice when you see fish in the water

When you are sad, you see the fish lying in a porcelain plate

Only these two species of fish exist in the world

When you rejoice, it rejoices

When you are sad it is also sad

Once the fish is sad, the gills and scales fall off and the eyeballs carbonize

The white thorn pierces the flesh from the inside and exposes it to the outside. That's dense

A strand of golden flesh presses inward, while the abdominal cavity

Open, empty inside. Between head and body

A crack appeared, barely connected by a thin cervical vertebrae

And once the fish is happy, the gills and scales will return to the body, and the eyes will flow

The white thorn retracted into the meat, and the time-squeezed dried meat withdrew its moisture and stomach

and bright muscle fiber tissue. The abdominal cavity is resealed, inside

It's all oily offal and light yellow roe. Head to body

The gap is gone, and the whole fish is like a perfect work of art in the water

But the fish never know when you're happy

When a silver fish will be seen as a blue whale

But the fish never know when you are sad and when

You start your calculus with a white thorn and end up deducing a fish

They are waiting, waiting for you to grieve, wait for you to rejoice

One of the hosts

Perhaps: clarify the meaning of creation again and again

It's a kind of escape. It was brought by a certain tree and this tree

Still growing quietly in the dark

The organs and looks of so many animals, ghosts, and unknowns

Gathered into a giant piece of ice, perhaps it shows the face of time

None of the phases left behind are in keeping with human aesthetics

And it melts quickly. But I don't think things are that simple

The light will freeze and perhaps God will appear on the earth

Damp shadows, like black robes that the people of the reclusive land cannot take away

One of the floating dreams

White waves roll on the top of the mountain covered with white stones

It's like the earth is turning over, and the sea on the back is turning over

Expose muscles and bones soaked in salt water for a long time in the blazing sun

Schools of fish flew from the sky, hovering over the white shining cliffs

People look up, their eyes burning

The inner torrents form oceans

Between the many options between landing, hanging and flying by

Different philosophies and religions arose. The only thing that remains consistent is

People know it's a dream, and everyone used to gather there

There is no fault and the list of causes of death in the same dream

Floating like a dream of the third

Everything has a tendency to actively deform: carrier pigeons

The longer it grows, the more it resembles a crow. The head of a whale-headed stork grows on the neck of a heron

The carp has a matchmaker's face coated with fat powder, and the tail fin becomes

The giant tail of a goldfish. The owl transforms into a stone lion in a dream

Butterflies turn into ghosts. The grasshopper lay quietly like a turquoise horse

Duck is about equal to a pheasant. The toad wears a unicorn mask

The kingfisher was shocked to have an eagle head. Even cabbage will have the proportion of leaves

Magnified hundreds of times. Qianlan is also called a pimple or no guest

How the leaves hanging from the long thin stems resemble dead lotus...

There were also an astonishing number of monsters that came to the bazaar, and no one knew

What they are first, then what they are, what they will be in the future

They are next to each other, knowing each other only partially

So many localities — some have reached the whole of local composition

Some stop halfway through, and many more are still changing

Let's say there's a fish that wants to turn into three fish

There was a giant python that wanted to turn into a buffalo

—END—

Yangtze River Literature and Art, No. 5, 2022

Responsible Editor | Ding East Asia

▲Lei Pingyang |

Lei Pingyang, poet, was born in the autumn of 1966 in Zhaotong, Yunnan. He currently lives in Kunming. He has published more than 40 poetry and prose collections, and has won awards such as the People's Literature Award, the People's Literature Poet of the Year Award, the Poetry Annual Award, the October Literature Award, the Chinese Media Award Poetry Award, the Zhongshan Literature Award, the Huadi Literature Ranking Poetry Gold Award, the Qu Yuan Poetry Gold Award of the Chinese Poetry Society, and the Lu Xun Literature Award.