Xie Gu
Burning Down

A window naively opens
  A street spirals
  Into momentary houses
  Waiting in faintness
  A fuzzy April comes on time
You’ve drifted here from an endless river of sleep
  Suddenly stabilizing a dashing hour in foam and
  An adventure full of loneliness
  At a peaceful morning
As if not to look at any jottings
  Diffusing enthusiasm can
  As in former days
  Successfully infuse into each quivery rock guarding hearts
Just as fingers may forget soul
  Habit can resist
  The entwinement of a thousand years’ fantasy
Walking along a story mad and sacred
  Hanging above an abyss
  The world’s final stairs
  Are releasing you a ruthless and cruel dawn of human nature
No one has ever thought that
  A hero will have become an autocrat
  A profound ideal
  No one has ever thought, will sometimes
  have made so many innocent freedoms
  Blindly sacrifice for each other
History has whitewashed with weakness an injured land
  The faith of first love won’t tell
  The arts from an ancient depth
  Among kinds of delightful momentum, is hard
  To make a forceful landscape
  Prophets are as sunken bells fled to the bottom of sea
  Contemplation has thus lost its descendents
  Time is raised by a morbid longing
  To throw violently at fairy tales of balance
  Dinner of honor is matchlessly plentiful
  People drowned in
  Trivial philosophy
  Here are tasting alternately
  The dramatic effect
  Of mediocrity

Day succeeds day
  Beauty and loftiness are nailed
  To a course of custom void of love
  Enduring with unfortunate truth
  The sweep of wind and dust
  And watching intently those
  Fortunate masks covering a direction
Our pulse is unable
  To give off a gentleness of tolerance
  The Sharpness of noise is much tougher than individuality
  By some glorious challenge
  It’s fighting to the life for children
  Having all the strong singers
  Indulged in beasts’ glowing looks think no more
  To come back to the original place of human peace and warmth
Day by day
  Monotonousness not heavy at all
  Like the slightest restrained hurricane
  Breaks away from the pre-entirety of conscience
  Only in spasmodic flowerless days
  Of no contrast
  Wasting sincerity
Verses shining above mountain ridges
  Wish not to light for us
  Far-stretching vagrant years
Your trivial skeleton
  No matter lies down, or
  Goes on fabricating pains
  In a roaming correspondence of lies
  It’s unable, at a constellation of superstition
  Where justice keeps falling
  To find a right place for dignity
Sacrificial blood for death and rebirth
  Like a frolic between opponent beliefs
  Makes the ethic of being alive
  In miniatures copying an overall contradiction
  Unconcernedly receive the smile of individuals
  And the sobriety with its connotation exhausted
  In improbity
I’ve become an unexpected guest
  The abstruse inspiration
  Belonging to the desert temple of us
  On the backside of rotten ideas
  Needing no supreme expectation
  Has also become
  An uninvited guest discomposing
  The reality
From awake to asleep, from burning to dying
  People keep far away in their dream
  From the passion filled with genius, and instead
  Show off, with another prosperous energy
  The banner they are ignorant of, and
  The doubtful happiness
  Suddenly felt
  Among crowded last words

Gold bird of century keeps slipping just like this
  Regularly into the earth’s dumb bosom
  Imperceptibly and touching lightly those
  Faces staying impulsive
  Even if being immersed in mud
The unreal other shore
  Can upset
  All the stubborn impressions
  And can give the stones we summon here
  Carved with meticulous care
  In a short moment back to
  The day and night open simplicity of cosmos
A human idol, thus
  Cannot break through
  The resistance of spiritual life
  But dedicate himself in turns with
  A re-multiplying indulgence
  To an expanding weariness
  And avenge beautifully
  Every irrepressible presentiment
  On the barbarity of civilization existing permanently within
Repeated epidemics come by bursts of attack
  Your emotion turns into a stone pillar
  Lifted by a overflowing desire for wealth
  To heavily insert into
  Brief but fragrant blood
Honor is getting dim
  In racing
  Conquest becoming dark after its arrogance and extravagance
  Only the feeling that cannot be yelled out in heavy mist
  And the premature death isolated by essence
  Has not yet lost the faint
  Joy of birth
For this, I am at
  A spacious grassland waiting for your arrival
  Wish you throw all the way
  From your jail not a bit firm
  The vanity tailing you all life, and
  The dark experience
  Hidden in your nerve clusters
  And convey an original naked soul
  Without any disguise
  To the source of quality
  Where you are discernible
It is clear that how much I believe in fantasy
  Whereas you care nothing about
  Liberation whatever
A talk on evolution apparently should have long ended
  With the curtain of clash being already fallen
  It seems that an inhospitality of despising a guidance
  Needs not to
  Conceive into an ocean
  The superiority wandering on the glass
Yet this is undoubtedly a breath in fire
  What active is just the dawn
  That bears a memory of burn
  Doesn’t meaning that in an on rising exhaustion
  You have overcome a decline
  Scarcely audible to any process
Years has been
  In our revolution without an inner vision
  What you trample over is no more a road
  Than a warm mire without danger
  For which forefathers have waited to end in nothing
The riverbed of life is spread densely
  With bright eyes of destiny
  Wishing not to yield or melt
  They don’t want
  Their dreamland awane
  To be slowly plated all over with reasonable laws
  By a sadness of authority
A new-born son
  Needs to live on and on
  Having just known sunlight’s strangeness, who still
  Wants, in a certain approaching conclusion
  To learn how to be nice at a dark hour
The disease of foison has been infecting
  The fresh flesh lingering
  On the earth not secure
  They apparently want to prepare for those
  Celebration ceremonies never to stop thus
  Their own alleged
  Gift to time
Blue starlight has you
  Forget the raid on soul
  From all labor
Guarding property whatever
  May all be
  A consolation as a breath
  To human beings poor in consciousness

City is still alive
  With a thousand years tedious secrets
  It keeps on talking anxiously day and night
  With our unintelligible expectancy of eagerness through ages
  While you are indistinctly feeling that
  The bless of life
  Is no more than a perfect noise
Flame is flying
  An evening visible to no one
  Far on a solitary rock occupied by sages
  Now can only burn languidly
The insignificant thinking within infinite cosmos
  Now in calling out the fleeing deity
  Has also realized
  The helplessness of imagination, and
  The vacuity sublimated from vicissitudes of life
Yet nothing contents us
  We have many wonderful reasons
  To prove
  How important
  Beneath the sky
  The rivalry is
  That matches existence beyond everyone’s alertness
Lovely crystal seems to be
  In a farthest place
  Seized by a predestined rhythm
  You cannot for life clear off
  The glorious battle
  Broken out in yourself
When many a primeval disturbance
  Keep flowing
  Between two busy lovers
  Bodies good at dancing
  Are immediately entangled into
  A primitive gorgeousness
  unable to surpass a notion
People test the richness of choice by form
  Habit finds before humble traces
  The echo
  Of their self-whipping once
Disasters can never tear
  Kinds of incarnations missing sins
  Because when you and I approach
  The duty enshrined with different implications
  All porches of history are
  Still giving birth to
  Immortality not simple and honest
Reality of friendship
  Attached with no astute contract
  Flashes with blessed light-waves of God
  Has long dried up
  In our heart not to throb for honesty
The thunder of material gain has
  Gradually broken into pieces
  The lonely croon
  That still wants in the heaven of reason
  To continue renewing itself
A crack of endless darkness
  Is enlarging
  In a so-called bright tease
  We are devoted into
  While, have lots and lots of you and I
  Who are continuously being molded
  By life-sucking material
  Already established
  From those atmospheres of no atmosphere
  any eternal itinerary

O, declining tranquility
  We are for a declining tranquility
  Repeating an empty inquiry
The world’s final storm
  Via human ancestry’s last inscriptions
  Has rolled low and deep towards our
  Faith not easily consolidated
  At the moment when all the cultivations not allowed pass the triumphant night
  The illusion of excellence will then
  At the foundation where wishes
  And eulogies loot
  Quickly end into a
  Resounding air-current
Pre-historical wilds will come out again
  All festivals will stop
  Performing for us
  The obligation of a singing torrent
Choking decorations, totally
  Turn into the demonstration of punishment
  No one can break off the erosion of inertia
  That has missed the clear instruction of God
You’ve no power
  To repeat your original arbitrariness
  Like us you will be
  At a Azrael’s market thumped by Judgment Day
  For a successive possible halt
  Give out several continuous
  Oaths on the point of rot
The specimen of hell is reflected into
  The ultimate spirit of our thinking and fantasy
  Too late for blood
  To carry on negotiation
  With a dull round-look
  On how to discern truth
  Fear prevails over all the topics
  The backside of life
  Is driving us, those
  Breathing forms true but confused
  To walk from dust to oblivion
  And from oblivion then towards
  Ashes floating like a sleepwalk
Fresh flowers on earth
  Will from now on be added with
  Another color
  The world that surprisingly flop down all of a lump in Spring
  And suppose to be forever victorious
  Or because of Nature’s irresistible adoption
  After some ten thousand years, perhaps
  Only a few wild beasts among
  In a long admiration of stratagems will still remember
  Human&mdashthe name
  That was confused with wisdom
But now, do you
  Feel that the sacred sea
  Is already far off us
  And that the exquisite abode
  Completed in numbness by ourselves
  Is quite like a nestle in clouds
A perfect apple
  Because of containing no deep space
  Is mournfully cleaved
  By your complicated guess
Down ridiculous fingerprints
  One half is safe and sound in your swallow
  While the other
  In a net of teeming values
  For the malice unaware of principles
The ancient particles making us
  Now will take back,with
  A conclusion absolutely not satisfactory
  Their commitment to a vast meaning
  For human beings not only deceive
  Their starting point but also are still haughtily consuming
  The weight of land needed by time
What we’ve done is really too light
In the dark core of innumerous sufferings
  We fail to presume from comprehension
  The figure of love
The intention of jealousness
  Has always had a pure embrace confined
  Careless days have always had some feeble prospects
  Hung on our mouth-sides in no need of sigh
  Getting mature is so exertive to you
  That a simple game will unexpectedly let you
  Believe that
  A sort of stimulation, is just
  An overall abundance
The return journey of life you reject
  Will just in your excitement
  Free with an absurd talking and laughing
  Suddenly fall
  Like a wall of ice
The ghastly transparency sealing up you
  Will get you another opportunity
  To curse mediocrity, or
  To reflect upon in dying
  Why in your own strong body
  Are so many blank months
  Hard to judge
  A finger ring seemingly able to disdain all
  A muttering or indignant bed
  And a realm-drowned wine-bottle, and
   A jail against angels’ ideal
  At this roofless night
  Of you most likely to soon fall asleep
  Succeeded by a complete disappearance
  Will all
  In your counting never resting now
  Get dim
  Void of reality
The nihility of premise, and even
  The intensity of metabolism
  Formed by an unreal premise
  Finally fail to supply you a
  Permanent but balanceable direction
  Or further to let you grasp instead of solitude
  an accumulation of various pains
  Big or small
  At the moment of your endurance with an outlook

I deeply regret not coming the right time
  And deeply sigh that
  It’s just right the time
  I’ve caught up with
  The first and last day and night of this century
  Blooming with traps
In a hometown with all roses obviously confused
  Our hometown filled long with ambiguous hostility
  Do you really fail to hear
  At a habitude’s end only with saplessness in possession
  A seriously ill poet
  Look up calmly and faithfully
  Still in a healthy language at
  The greenness of tomorrow
  Gushing out of his own delicate pulses
  Not purely belonging to himself
Indeed, this soundlessness
  And a silent watering of future
  On the edge where everything
  Apparently should have been deserted
  Are really not easy to let you accept what is just
  A never vanishing scenery
  And what scenery just
  An imperishable sign
  Not to make us feel old
  With everyone’s heart to be inhabited fully with brightness
The defoliation of order
  Is enveloping an indulgent normalcy
  What near bread, is nothing but
  The marriage of flattery and asylum
  The contest between demagoguery and fetters
Marbles engraved fully with laws are broken one by one into
  Miniature decorations
  Justice is totally forgotten by
  A new empire rushing to purchase luxury
  People are being compelled to attend
  Delicacies of connotation
  With their dimensions manipulated in turns by politicians
  The devil with a glamour on earth, also with
  The prosperity we have to continue to long for
  Resolutely takes a stroll back and forth without any alert
  Within a common sense weakening to you and me
Perhaps everything is for a miracle
  Only to give up an entire faith, can perhaps
  Guide those false vitalities
  To a far more honorable square
  Sprouting with twigs of merits
However all routes with an exploration onward
  Has again lost
  Absolute message
We are born with
  This running and converging of misty cause
  If one day we unexpectedly leave
  The mill of desire
  The bitter coldness
  Of another perception slowly spreading
  Then will probably tell life
  What are factors for transmutability and disappearance
But now, you
  Seem to be only at an extremely careless
  Victorious final phase
  Allowing rulers’ tide
  Penetrate the eardrum
  And disguising a predominance on a voyage loath to be instructed
  Acknowledging that all musty lilacs
  Still give off a fragrance
The muddy water of humanity is flooding
  The exit of an era
  A sentence from humanity itself
  Like a lightening will abrogate
  Our frivolous occupation of Nature
Yet in this scathing verdict
  No one has got
  Enough testimony to avoid being devoured
  So as o litigate for his long time stupidity
  And to push the arm of Azrael away from
  Those concepts we’ve been addicted to
  And don’t know fatal

Opportunity like childhood and your favorite woman
  In your violent performance of
  Ceaseless occupation for yourself
  Has already withdrawn safe and sound
  From your fingers in rough consciousness
Today we are already out of hearing
  The sincerest warnings from deity
  That has halted at the rest place of history
  At the moment of breathing as in the ancient
  Our everywhere seems to be spread fully with positions of lofty family trees
All the living
  That can only keep standing by a sort of brightness
  On days and nights
  In their attempt to employ
  A bronze arrogance long hidden
  Are imperceptibly running up
  A limitless precipice
  For where their own golden center really is in the sun
Our bevy of pitiful lovers of future
  Suffer from an insomnia
  Below a hurrying new moon
  For innumerable times for an aureole beyond recognition
  And also keep trying repeatedly
  For heaps of times in the apparently unawakened space
  To work out a detail enabling us to close to a fantasy
Busyness, conceals like this
  An emptiness not kindly
  Usual practice erodes like this
  The tenacity of health
  Descendents in their fathers’ delicate earnestness
  Hard to digest
  With cold bones all over can only
  Through an extravagant talk
  Resolve an icy-cold height
  Away from life
Yet speed is like
  A hungry king
  Who, by soundless roars is cutting out
  The eclogue that mankind lets go of
  And tiredly puts
  Our extremely vain hardships
  Floating about
  Into the water not moved
  Hardly had a glittery life started its independence from a womb
  When extinguishing followed
When jasmines ignorant of truth
  Within your visible distance
  Leisurely wave their simplicity as ever
  The gate of years is
  Slowly closed up towards you
Little by little, you feel the sky already nonexistent
  All the experiences are like a
  Short game of chess
  What you defeat is just
  A mother who never knows what atrocity is
  While growth, this uncalled-for award
  So naturally inundant
  Towards everyone
  Is nothing but a certificate of their filling up a human life
We should say that death cannot be counted as an accident
  The never missing
  Intrepid absolute being of destruction
  At every moment
  Of your whole body being twisted with forbidden fruit
  Soon after your first appearance in this world
  Sat opposite
  To your breakthrough always filled with profanity
  With its no violent mission

No matter how your claim for being
  Or even your love for gallop
  Are full of a constant sentiment
  Because life and death
  Appear to us a sort of fairest hatred
  So the music of your harps copying ancient philosophers
  Which has not yet flied enough, will finally
  Drop into a vast darkness
  Caring about no reconciliation whatever
Yes, no one can rejoice
  That he can come out of a samsara with deliberate steps
  Even if the conceivable next life may
  Truly be engraved with
  A legend you and I vibrate with
  Yet tomorrow’s sunlight
  Shines no more today
  On the roof of us still shaking
  In prosperity
The sheen of calamity
  Bright as stars falling
  Suddenly descends from the heaven
  While we are
  In our binding or unfolding for a promise
  Adornments of myth
  Brothers are just immersed in manufacturing
  Wings enabling themselves to rove a vastness
  An exhausted woman was just about
  To greet in temperature
  A weightless social machine
  When hijacked
  By this immense fright
  To an invisible funeral
  Too late to refuse
O, I don’t understand
  Why a bump can make without phrasing
  A distortion to our sobriety
  As we are so far unable to know that
  Bad luck is sometimes unexpectedly also
  An esteem
  For our successful surmounting of bully consciousness

Human Bone ashes
  Serene as leaves that won’t talk
  Because of a strong resounding clank
  Are quickly accepted
  By a simple but strict land
  Totally following the dry and cracked
  Load before their death
  Together with a scorched meat taste, and
  The once combated salt
The tacit race that used to keep tame and mature in wars
  Whose souls meet within clay
  Where any footsteps can hardly germinate, although
  Have dropped the howled teeth
  And armors of liberty long at feud
  Still wishes to wave gracefully with
  An unforgettable comparison of beauty
  In a desperate location where each of their stories were far gone
Birds daring not to face the human race
   Even from their hereditary memory
  Is swiftly roused by a rolling-by misery
  And comes back again
  On a morning of twigs being hung all over with another greenness
Although precious stones deep in coldness
  Infinitely pile up on
  The dead cells before us too arrogant to have a speech
  Yet the hovering things with ravines in possession all their life
  Still wants to take a short while look of
  The cosmos’ obituary
  Never more romantic in the past history
  With a self-restraint they don’t know much about
An overturned city is as still as a mural
  Scattered loblollies, are dimly
  Swaying with lots and lots of inverted reflexes
  Of banner and flag
  The blind men who used to
Keep thinking of conquering the outside will
  After meals and water
  Are now joined to water and clouds
  As if to have not a bit had
  A trace of resistance to Nature
  The wheat concerns them, and
  The key preparative to all things on earth
  On the occasion of approaching
  A crumbly laud
  Grow ashamedly all at once with
  Mildew and rust vestiges
  On their incomprehensible back
Firelight rests as chooses
  Not all ideas
  Have brought about mistakes to prayers
The spiritual travelers
  Stored all along by God
  At a small room rejected by hunters
  The exclusive in this world to restrain fishiness
  With their nobility of gradually growing grey hair
  Direct selectively their own instantly aged embrace towards
  All song-refusing cores of love-sickness

The river at our altar-like end
  Opens out Tolerantly
  And by a commitment of washing the historical lead poison
  Completely off Spring
  Heavily separates from clear water surface
  The fossil reflected with human splendid passing moments
All concrete impurities   Then like idle timid roots
  On an exile night of
  Fetters to be eventually shed off a purpose
  Quietly abandon
  The meaning of a thousand years’ watch
Followers stop looking for food round a position
  Their shoulders that have shouldered kinds of directions
  Or because of being tortured for times
  By distance and maxims
  They draw out by themselves
  The expectant nerves that should have long collapsed
  In an indignation at their failure to reach
  The garden filled with a dazzling tomorrow
Everything does begin thus
  To lose all of itself
  Until the stale emotion
  Fails forever to see
   Claws of culture
  Till the heroes bred by stubbornness
  Resume one by one with restrained tears
  The missing of humanity already forgotten
A sand-ridge overlying a race
  Will then at the very moment before our underground shadows
  Encounter a thorough threat from time
  Allow future notes lead out
  Our spiritualism
  The strength never to formicate
  Which stands respectfully as before
  Even if under Nature’s control
The fashionable nightmare
  Having our hands for touch long locked, eventually
  In another tumble when we know
  What future to take a step to
  Starts a poison counteracting preparation in succession
  For a breakout of human race
A New examination, will
  Come out in season
  The shallow fellows
  Crouching in the past nourishment to forget
  To mutually anatomize themselves
  Before you reach
  The distant molding to evade time and space
  Arrange well for you
  A cradle to enable the aged
  To return to lightness
  And to be commonly valued from now on
But now, you must
  Conduct yourself well
  In the middle of treacherous meteorites
  In an apathy surrounded with ignorance
  Without the illumination of your things
  You can only go on
  Floating alone on the comprehension
  Till the human enjoyment of liberation
  Is no more an impulse
  And aesthetic judgment, not just for the
  Pride in embarrassment

O, look
  How weak it is
  That the destiny of all the flesh
  On the plain of endless coolness
  Is radically walking to and fro
All their beautiful coats
  That have rushed through forbidden areas
  Are so fine
  As to be curio-like evening papers
  While their continued implication
  Is not attached with much extensive roots
Food, is still the topic
  That can’t let them forbear with each other, as
  Mountain people
  Except for being nourished by a certain fixed harvestry
  What aftertaste
  Can the gifts to whom associate
  With the approaching death sooner or later
Your change is always so late
  That the cheeks sound asleep
  Are tracking even in daytime
  The cumbrous somniloquy
  Endangering your actions
Because the dark night of soul
  So long hovers over soul that
  Too many God’s chosens
  Can hardly witness
  The unexpected dustless vestiges of truth
  To this world this surroundings this nearby of you
Lie down like this
  If standing can only make you
  Snuggle up to the well combined past
  Let’s lie down like this
A stone tablet is a most outstanding endurance
  May we, all
  Move as lightly as butterflies
  In the split second of losing ourselves
  And in an inquiry of the reason for an overthrow
  Go back to the lost

In an meditative sitting I have stepped over
  The terminal doorsill
  Clutching all fruits
  The shadow I have left you, will make
  The touching sorrowfulness
  Still struggling in fog
  On the occasion of its crazy anchoring
  Deeply realize
  From a certain abruptly interrupted nourishment
  That suffering is nothing but a distillation of fight
  While your back, as long as it can still
  Bear an ancient poorness
  And the latest worries
  The harmony in essence
  Will just
  Belong to you
  And without experiencing all the swift changes of the world
  Your eyes can walk through
  Many an impression deep and serene of each century
  And easily feel
  Outside a country
  The truth of thought
  Shining gloriously all the time, and further
  The never emerged arts of Nature
  That can still calmly accept miseries as ever
  Even if having passed through a spiritual burning-down
For sure human beings will still have
  Another Spring
  Or the myriad
  Unexpected warmth
  Daring to brighten
  The skulls of us that have suffered nemesis
  But when this definite motion
  For the moment is still standing by the side of your
  That fails to figure out your own weight
  We all can only all stick to our guard
  Of each other’s kindling easy to denounce by the outside
  And make wait
  A complete theme
  In an impossible rescue likely to last long
  Pay much attention to the weight of giving, letting
  All the winnings
  Stop disturbing our
  Spiritual invention
  With its evenness waiting to be deepened
You let go of the curtain together with me
  Just thinking that nothing
  Has ever happened in this world
  And that you and your friends are already out of work
  They are withdrawing themselves, one by one
  From the originally addictive performance
Our strong chaos
  Does not need to exaggerate an esthetics with an unclear appearance
  Any more through a disconsolate revelation
Embrace keeps motionless all the time
  All delight, like
  An evil magic
  Will finally abridge each other’s instinct of’ gathering together
  Only into a heap of
  Vague rocks
Let go of the curtain
  You and I will then gain lots of
  Best strong implications beyond material
We grow up in silence
  And start our journey together indoors where the souls beckoning
  Are simultaneously recalled
A human village, the
  Very pied village
  With no difference retainable
  Although arranged alongside with perfectly round respectful praises
  In a shape of lyric steel
  Yet after all it does not break away from
  An abrasion of foreordination
  And after all in sustaining with gradual perplexity
  Also notices that on its own happy chosen land
  Appears a crack
  Hardest to heal up
The viscidity of season has tightly sealed
  Your phrases that are to revolt
  Each time as soon as slip into a sort of edge
  Since your abruptly towering body
  Needn’t count on milk long before
  Now at this tortuous dak
  Where you can let your life
  Bare its sweetness
  Why bother yourself about
  Exploring a sort of profession
  So sonorously senseless
  Give up the reluctance to leave
  You will then like me
  Possess poetry, and

For the whole century
  High forests
  Have been missing us
  And among less and less luxuriant greenness
  They are holding high an eternal heaviness
  And modern anxiety
  From a boundless blood pool before roots
  They’ve heard a death dialogue
  Touchingly given by
  A grandeur
A distant slave of religion
  Is employing its own rules of law to calmly build a nest
  They don’t know up to now, that
  No one can steal the permanent laws
  Merely by a brave tillage
  From all the abyssal things
Laurels fall to the ground in succession
  Disturbing the forever self-contained beetles
  To twiddle leisurely with a disorderly value
  The yardstick sinking and floating, is flirting
  The trips
  That can’t meet in balance
  You and your compatriots are near at hand
  But hard to
  Walk hand in hand out of
  Numerous series with a problematic future
The war last night and the diplomacy this morning
  Are still looking for a sort of public enemy
  To set off their vigorousness
Industry is an excrete of special arbitrariness
  To guide us, in
  A contrastive prosperity
  To a slow oblivion of moral
  Along with a gradual memorization of
  Such heavenliness as that of steroid
You are already ignorant of cotton and
  Daisies fresh as ever
  Even on Sunday
The essence of doubt filling my bosom
  And the aberrant clues dreaming on the skin
  To pass to the alike
  Are all shifted off
  By a flourishing schizophreniaic reason
  Certainly insufferable to you
This is the gulf between us
  And the fence for experiencing an isolation between human beings
  You’d like to be in a corner
  As a happy dead man
  While I am always thinking
  Of how to act well in my life as a
  Humorous bedlamite
  In a spacious fault of reason
  To help the East and West free off idols

Yet it’s too late
  Like the air of Cretaceous
  We are getting gradually thinner
  The doomsday lightning, is chasing not only
  Lackadaisical bread
  But the pressing contemplation
  Road signs will be in an idle talk
  Broken into scorching starlight
  The coolness usually on the plateau
  Will suddenly pierce our uniform intimacy
  Lacking in defense
  Various original intentions are difficult to accomplish, as
  All the chastity hidden in iceland agate
  Can never bring back to life
  The meaning of standing towering
You’ve experienced the life within your sight
  And have had an agora
  And moist in pouring out yourself
  We need not keep on sipping
  The sharp sword shaded on the lost shore
  And difficult to return to its keenness
Nature with a revelation not as that of the falling sky and sinking ground
  Has picked the human helmet in an occult thinking
  Sending forth an infantility
Those men
  That keep expecting faraway dream-like humble abodes you
  Really ought to suddenly come up
  With a vision overlooking a large trance
  In an eternal self-deceit
  About to be squeezed with graves
When a poet so deeply neighborless
  With an igniting passion, encourages
  Your solitary travel as if individually in a staggering way
  To unload a retrospective baggage
  And to pluck together
  The hope ahead never to die young
Farewell, is no longer a sort of silence
  It will let us see with reverence, many
  Sketches as if belonging to the previous ages
  Just as the snow ground behind us which
  Hardly looks lucid