The sun went down in a blaze of blush, the moon loitered behind the trees, and the south wind whispered to the lotus, that the poet was not as simple as he seemed. The maidens and youths clapped their hands and cried,"The world's secret is out." They looked into each other's eyes and sang—"Let our secret as well be flung into the winds."

不动声色的良愿像尘埃

傍晚的湖泊呈现靛青色

鸟在低空，不生变

枯草伏岸，不生疑

只一会儿，榆树浓得只剩下轮廓

迎面而来的老者

脸上有石质的清冷

这一切其实并不值得写下

淤泥乌黑柔软

让我想起胎盘

我是被自然界的荒凉一口

一口

喂大的。远处

夸张的楼群和霓虹灯加深着它

轻霜般完美

轻霜般不能永续

Deep Longings

by Chen Xianfa

My deep longings, unassuming like dust.

The evening lake, ink-blue in the twilight.

Birds fly low, no riotous thoughts.

Wilted leaning grass, untouched by sorrows.

Soon, the elm trees will become solid silhouettes.

An old man walks pointing my way,

wearing a cold, stony face.

None of these is worth recording.

The slimy mud, soft and black,

brings to my mind the image of placenta.

I souped up bleakness, hand-fed by Nature,

spoonful at a time,

and grew to adulthood. The skyline

looks even bleaker now with high-rises and neon lights.

They are almost perfect, like thin frost.

They are only ephemeral, like thin frost.

https://t.cn/A65hobJU

人生一世，草木一秋，即是事过三而虑，醒来时抬头，着觉时回首，醉酒时忘忧，敬人生一杯酒，愿岁月，无波澜，愿余生，不遗憾。

In life, the grass and trees are autumn, that is, things are over three things, when you wake up, look up, look back when you feel, forget your worries when you are drunk, respect a glass of wine in life, wish the years, no waves, willing to spend the rest of your life, no regrets.