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¡i­^Ķ¡j

               
 
  1
¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

He washes his remote control

with the moonbeams infiltrating

between two buildings.
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6

A swift and downward glissando:

someone puts a ladder

against my childhood window.
¡@

9

It invites me into the TV set;

on the seat I stand up from,

I find a leafless metal tree.


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        14 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

I wait and long for you:

a turning die in the empty bowl of night

attempting to create the 7th side.
¡@

16

Someone is in the autumn wind¢w

I mean, someone is in the autumn wind saying

someone is in the autumn wind.
¡@

17

Bartok, Balzac:

I strike over and over with tongue and throat

this brief and forceful secret telegram.
¡@

18

A great event on the desolate

winter day: ear wax

drops on the desk.


¡@

          21 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Tears are like pearls; no, tears are like

silver coins; no, tears are like

loosened buttons to be sewed back.
¡@

23

I return to my childhood school to fetch my daughter,

thousands of similar children rush out of the playground:

a butterfly lost in the garden of mirrors.
¡@

26

From the cup I drink the tea you pour for me,

from the cup I drink the spring chill flowing down

between your fingers.
¡@

27

Joy is a hole:

tuck an object in, and out flow

fruit-like vowels.
¡@

29

A parade in honor of death:

strolling shoes working shoes sleeping

shoes dancing shoes...


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          30 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Every street is a stick of chewing gum:

chew it repeatedly, but

don't eat it up at a mouthful.
¡@

35

What connects solitary peaks

is solitude, as well as

the glances of black birds and white birds.
¡@

38

On a night cold as iron:

the percussion music of two bodies

that strike each other to make a fire.


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           45 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Morning of Children's Day: we hike to the cape of

time, waiting for the late-returning grandfathers

to ride back, on the setting sun, from their hiking.
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46

Prisoners of silence: with speech we shatter

the transparent wall, and are forced to

nip back every piece of broken silence with our breath.
¡@

48

Aside from the bed, what other submarines

can we choose

to dive from the ocean of reality into the dream?
¡@

49

All the sorrow of night will be turned into golden

ears of rice by daylight, waiting to be

reaped by another sorrowful night.


¡@

          51 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Multiplication table for kids of clouds and fog:

mountains times mountains equals trees, mountains times trees

equals me, mountain times me equals nothingness...
¡@

52

The sky gargles with the ocean, spits out the day's

clouds; the night gargles with stars,

spits out the glowworms that fly before your doorway.
¡@

53

Swirling rapidly into the dream like a pelota, bouncing

and bouncing,

the midnight barking.
¡@

54

The tongue is the wet root of words:

oh, stretch forward, stretch closer, to become

a secret exclamation mark in my thirsty mouth.
¡@

55

Paste the stamp right here:

what I'd like to paste is a piece of your favorite

cake, or lips.
¡@

56

Glittering around your neck is

a necklace

strung with my glances.
¡@

57

An egg: the most delicate mode of

dream; the womb of meditation

you can't bear to pierce through.
¡@

58

Opening the cage of depression:

out flies emptiness,

in flies the void.


¡@

         60 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

In the chaotic huge maze of the world

the only support to keep from getting lost may be

the tiny flesh map you offer.
¡@

61

Mother's blue silk handkerchief:

the profound and damp starry sky of

summer night.
¡@

62

¡¥Which runs faster, grass or dust?¡¦

after a spring shower, beside a deserted railway,

someone asked me.
¡@

63

Having constantly broken world records,

our lonely shot-putter throws his head out

in one put.
¡@

64

The lottery of skulls:

with the four words¢wLife, Age, Sickness, Death,

you may have the latest Lover's Manual in exchange.
¡@

66

The white skin turns a mole

into an island: I miss

the glistening vast ocean inside your clothes.
¡@

67

Silent soybean milk: day after day

from my bowl to my body flows

the blank music.
¡@

68

Turn gently¢woh, I fear

out of the midnight faucet might come

a baby's crying other than water¡K
¡@

69

Night lies there crosswise like a comb:

to comb the half-bare woods

in my body? Autumn.


¡@

            70 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Turn on the light, turn on

the eyes of the dead, which are imprisoned

between the wall and the furniture.
¡@

74

She isn't insane; she is a dramatic soprano

trying time after time to cut her belly open with sharp laughter

to give birth to huge amounts of suffering.
¡@

76

Sandals throughout the seasons: do you see

the free verse my two feet write, treading

upon the blackboard, upon the dust?
¡@

77

Outside the massage house they often

stretch two ropes across, to hold

a speech contest of sign language for towels of all sizes.
¡@

79

Oh, Baudelaire,

how broad and comfortable

a sofa of senses!


¡@

          86 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

I am man,

I am a disposable lighter

in the dark universe.
¡@

87

A pomegranate, wet and green

in the rain,

seems to have something to say.


¡@

          90 ¡i¦^¨ì¤¤¤å¡j

Violent love brought about pleasant injury:

I perspired the sweat equivalent to five boxes of grapefruit,

you had twenty-one hairs broken.
¡@

91

I like the shopping bag you left behind:

I carry in it the newly-written haiku, lemon cake,

the mountain scenes after the rain.
¡@

94

Oh, the blind men's chorus:

their faces are discordant chords

far more touching than their harmonious voices.
¡@

95

An obstinate mollusk: lodging inside

the crotch of trousers, out sometimes for a demonstration,

a pompous shell-less snail.
¡@

97

The story of marriage: a closet of loneliness plus

a closet of loneliness equals

a closet of loneliness.
¡@

98

They might be gossiping about

the setting sun¢wthe whispering

TV antennae on the roof.
¡@

99

A rondo now forte now piano:

the flush toilets of the nihilistic republic are playing

again their mumbling national anthem...



¡@

 ¿ï¦Û chenliengbook.jpg (73772 bytes) 
Intimate Letters: Selected Poems of Chen Li
     (1997¦~5¤ë ¡A®ÑªL¥Xª©¤½¥q)  
 
 


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