So, about sadness and raptures,
What could be said?
Many, with only a little remains, upon waking,
Dun me to return a clearer vision, your body, dots and lines,
The planarity and the tangibility, of my excitement and my itch to enter,
And I find myself on a deserted beach,
Emptiness wrapped me with its insidious smile,
And its gluey dampness is hypocritical.
The only solidity is sadness, and it presents itself as an absence.
Lust for retrieving the lost makes one cheap,
And every time I shake my head to rid of the thought of you
I reprimand myself: Cry after a shade! So cheap!
Truth is really nothing but a dream,
So I alter the time and places about our meetings
Beijing, Nanjing, Xi’an, Wuhan, Chengdu, Lhasa,
I alter myself into a fictional character.
Once in Chicago, when we are walking, you suddenly turn into an art gallery,
And a shower of hooves drums on my heart;
Another time, in an unknown town in Czech where I have never been,
I see you and star at you, while you stare back, coldly, not recognizing me.
You are in blue cardigan, with a white wide-brimmed hat.
That time in Kyoto, the cherry-admiring season,
You follow close to a supercilious man in quick steps,
Turning to give me a hurried bow and a sincere moushiwake arimasen,
And the petals shower down from your shoulder into your obi.
"So she appears, before I know who she is,
And I will never know who she is."
Perhaps, I am still your stranger.
Every time I say this, I say this is the last time,
And you see I am saying this again
After I have said it again.
To say this is the last time is really cheap.
May 2, 2009
都会暗骂自己：Cry after a shade! So cheap! (在一个影子后哭着喊着。真贱!)