Luminous Midsummer | 朗朗盛夏
Every midsummer night, to stars on the verge of dying, I speak of the daylight soon to come— what shape it will take.
Is sunrise a kind of feeling? Leaves sip at dew. Wind sounds through the woods, in concert with cicadas. In the halos of the creek, I see myself nearing the coffin.
—This feeling lies across my neck. In every tomorrow murmuring in its sleep, shadows bleed into the scattered night; my absence flows into luminous midsummer.
Green grasses cling to the muddy universe. The coming day, the next season, the next epoch— a stone, or a cow?
每个仲夏夜 向即将死去的星星 诉说着 即将到来的白昼，会是 什么模样
日出，是 一种感觉吗？ 树叶啜饮露珠 林间风鸣，与蝉协奏 小溪的晕圈里，我看见自己 行将就木
——这种感觉，横亘在 脖颈处。每一个 呓语的明天里， 影子晕染 零星的夜 我的缺席 流于朗朗盛夏
青青芳草，附着 泥泞的宇宙 来日，下个季节，下个纪元 成为一块石头，还是一头牛？
