In the torrential rain you walk on alone, passing the stagnant green and dim black shadows of the roadside trees.
This darkness lit through by streetlamps. After rain there is never a seven-colored rainbow to be seen, but still, rain at least carries a bit of the feeling of a season. Even though you yourself are heavy with wetness. You think of a song; on a somewhat similar night, you became a singer:
I am alone
Alone by myself, alone
Walking on the chill, chill street
Heavy luggage, black and striking
Drifting while sitting in your own room. When the light shifts, you casually create a burst of hoofbeats out of a purposeless process. From time immemorial, from far, far away, it seeps into the silence of this seasonless marketplace.
But what you need is:
——the noon turning beneath paulownia shade / fallen reds in the wind at dusk / banana leaves in the night rain / morning dew seen between the leaves at dawn;
——rustling leaves / a small boat sharing a bright moon over a thousand li / green mountains and pale clouds / winter plum blossoms clad all over in ice and snow.
But the crowds in the marketplace brush past one another like fallen leaves in a noisy river; no one will notice anyone, and no one has ever noticed anyone. The houses on both sides of the street are nothing but a single note of somber black, and the plants—the packaging of this marketplace—stay all year in a deathlike green.
Gradually numb, gradually numb......
The body creaks at the slightest touch, like a machine that has long gone unoiled. That night, (you only go out at night) you returned to the soft riverbank once overgrown with grass. The river wind was strong; every time you crossed the bridge over the river you would have this feeling. Once you sat down, that river played a film for you.
——At dusk, bats filled the sky in flight like scraps of burnt paper.
Then you saw a forest. Butterflies, with wings shining like red dragonflies, glided leisurely through the moonlit woods, and when they fell to the ground, you heard a crisp impact like shattering glass.
This darkness lit through by streetlamps. After rain there is never a seven-colored rainbow to be seen, but still, rain at least carries a bit of the feeling of a season. Even though you yourself are heavy with wetness. You think of a song; on a somewhat similar night, you became a singer:
I am alone
Alone by myself, alone
Walking on the chill, chill street
Heavy luggage, black and striking
Drifting while sitting in your own room. When the light shifts, you casually create a burst of hoofbeats out of a purposeless process. From time immemorial, from far, far away, it seeps into the silence of this seasonless marketplace.
But what you need is:
——the noon turning beneath paulownia shade / fallen reds in the wind at dusk / banana leaves in the night rain / morning dew seen between the leaves at dawn;
——rustling leaves / a small boat sharing a bright moon over a thousand li / green mountains and pale clouds / winter plum blossoms clad all over in ice and snow.
But the crowds in the marketplace brush past one another like fallen leaves in a noisy river; no one will notice anyone, and no one has ever noticed anyone. The houses on both sides of the street are nothing but a single note of somber black, and the plants—the packaging of this marketplace—stay all year in a deathlike green.
Gradually numb, gradually numb......
The body creaks at the slightest touch, like a machine that has long gone unoiled. That night, (you only go out at night) you returned to the soft riverbank once overgrown with grass. The river wind was strong; every time you crossed the bridge over the river you would have this feeling. Once you sat down, that river played a film for you.
——At dusk, bats filled the sky in flight like scraps of burnt paper.
Then you saw a forest. Butterflies, with wings shining like red dragonflies, glided leisurely through the moonlit woods, and when they fell to the ground, you heard a crisp impact like shattering glass.
弄花香满衣，掬水月在手。
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
