■□一只抽屉
阳子

一只抽屉用来装曾经的涨潮之声
你时时听到它的荡气回肠
回声锻打一根肋骨
身体里隐秘作痛
你当它是嵌入血肉的一块小石头

曾经的海上蹲着撕咬目光的迷雾
桅杆顶挂满写给上帝的信笺
你当这只抽屉是兄弟的时候
曾经的故事，开始被点燃

昏暗燃烧起来
取暖的人来自四面八方
苦难的话讲了一遍又一遍
直到潮湿也喷溅火星

血液烧旺了
你就躲进抽屉
有人扛着大旗在外面日夜飘摇
远处旷野里有风掠过
回声一样荡气回肠


A drawer
Yang Zi

A drawer for what was once the sound of the rising tide.
You hear it all the time.
Echo forged a rib.
The body aches insidiously.
You think it's a small stone embedded in flesh and blood.

Once the sea crouched to bite the mists of the gaze.
The top of the mast is filled with letterheads written to God.
When you think this drawer is a brother.
The story that once was, is beginning to ignite.

Faintly burning.
People come from all over the place to keep warm.
The hard words were said over and over again.
Until the moisture also spews sparks.

The blood is burning up.
You just hide in the drawer.
There are people out there flying day and night with big flags.
In the wilderness in the distance, the wind was blowing.
Resonate like an echo

译/梵君


■□坐在风的椅子上瞭望村口
阳子

一本正经坐着的
还有你体内的喧嚣
你用瞭望阻截一朵朵疑似饥饿的花

风的涟漪漫过村口
匣子里的村庄，人人玩着
各自的光天化日
气色仿佛隐秘抛掷的避孕药

隔离仿佛安居
视线辽阔的时候
岁月的伤疤悬挂到高处
把一次次瞭望
打扮成一次次离开

幻想直接变得迂腐
一把椅子一个人
目光万马奔腾
正午拖着阳光的爆破箱来了
讲故事的人讲着讲着
讲成临终遗言


Sitting in a windy chair looking out over the village entrance
Yang Zi

Sitting very disciplined.
And the clamor inside you.
You use a lookout to intercept a flower suspected of being hungry.

The wind ripples through the village entrance.
The village in the box, everyone plays.
each in broad daylight
You look like a stealthy pill.

Isolation is like living in peace.
When the line of sight is wide.
The scars of years hang high.
Put a look around.
Dress up to leave again and again.

The fantasy becomes directly pedantic.
One chair for one person.
lit. the eyes of all horses run wild
Here comes the blasting box with the sun in tow at noon.
The storyteller tells it.
make one's last words

译/梵君

■□一只抽屉
阳子

一只抽屉用来装曾经的涨潮之声
你时时听到它的荡气回肠
回声锻打一根肋骨
身体里隐秘作痛
你当它是嵌入血肉的一块小石头

曾经的海上蹲着撕咬目光的迷雾
桅杆顶挂满写给上帝的信笺
你当这只抽屉是兄弟的时候
曾经的故事，开始被点燃

昏暗燃烧起来
取暖的人来自四面八方
苦难的话讲了一遍又一遍
直到潮湿也喷溅火星

血液烧旺了
你就躲进抽屉
有人扛着大旗在外面日夜飘摇
远处旷野里有风掠过
回声一样荡气回肠


A drawer
Yang Zi

A drawer for what was once the sound of the rising tide.
You hear it all the time.
Echo forged a rib.
The body aches insidiously.
You think it's a small stone embedded in flesh and blood.

Once the sea crouched to bite the mists of the gaze.
The top of the mast is filled with letterheads written to God.
When you think this drawer is a brother.
The story that once was, is beginning to ignite.

Faintly burning.
People come from all over the place to keep warm.
The hard words were said over and over again.
Until the moisture also spews sparks.

The blood is burning up.
You just hide in the drawer.
There are people out there flying day and night with big flags.
In the wilderness in the distance, the wind was blowing.
Resonate like an echo

译/梵君


■□坐在风的椅子上瞭望村口
阳子

一本正经坐着的
还有你体内的喧嚣
你用瞭望阻截一朵朵疑似饥饿的花

风的涟漪漫过村口
匣子里的村庄，人人玩着
各自的光天化日
气色仿佛隐秘抛掷的避孕药

隔离仿佛安居
视线辽阔的时候
岁月的伤疤悬挂到高处
把一次次瞭望
打扮成一次次离开

幻想直接变得迂腐
一把椅子一个人
目光万马奔腾
正午拖着阳光的爆破箱来了
讲故事的人讲着讲着
讲成临终遗言


Sitting in a windy chair looking out over the village entrance
Yang Zi

Sitting very disciplined.
And the clamor inside you.
You use a lookout to intercept a flower suspected of being hungry.

The wind ripples through the village entrance.
The village in the box, everyone plays.
each in broad daylight
You look like a stealthy pill.

Isolation is like living in peace.
When the line of sight is wide.
The scars of years hang high.
Put a look around.
Dress up to leave again and again.

The fantasy becomes directly pedantic.
One chair for one person.
lit. the eyes of all horses run wild
Here comes the blasting box with the sun in tow at noon.
The storyteller tells it.
make one's last words

译/梵君