Simile
The slow motion of clouds is eternal
Nonarrival, repetition. And it superimposes itself
As surfs eat and make the palimpsests on the shore
Who is fondling whose expectation of touch
While winds tiptoe across the grass.? A slope is always
A slope, no matter it rises or falls
Then the spring becomes the summer, and the autumn
Becomes gold, the winter silver
Whoever harvests the seed of waiting is doomed to
Disperses himself into the faraway field
The shoot to come is the eye of the storm, charged nothingness
Holding its centre very tight
June 10, 2010
犹如
云的缓行是永远的
不达，一次又一次将次数融成一体
如波浪涂抹沙滩上的底本
可那是谁抚摩谁对于抚摸的期许
如风过草
坡儿没有上下，而春天就暖成了夏
然后秋天黄了，冬天白了
谁还收藏等待的种子，谁就注定
要将自己播种到远方
将来的苗儿，如风暴眼，坚强地
揪紧虚空的内心
2010年6月10日
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