Editor's Note On January 31, 2021, the Fourth National Member Congress of the Chinese Poetry Society was successfully held, and 170 people were elected as members of the Fourth Council of the Chinese Poetry Society. This WeChat public account will select the selected poems of directors and members on the basis of merit for the benefit of readers.
Ma Zeping, Hui, 80 years later, Ningxia Tongxin people. He is a member of the Chinese Writers Association, a director of the Chinese Poetry Society, a student of the 31st Ethnic Minority Writers Advanced Study Class (Poetry Class) of Lu Xun Literature Institute, and participated in the 35th Youth Poetry Conference of the Poetry Journal. His works have been scattered in publications and newspapers such as "Poetry Journal", "Stars", "Ethnic Literature", "Caotang", "Poetry Tide", "Han Poetry", "Yangtze River Poetry Journal" and other periodicals and annual anthologies, and he has authored the poetry collection "Joyful Song".
Railroad tracks on the balcony
Ma Zeping
I want to go to Xiangshan Park to see the autumn leaves
I want to go to Xiangshan to see the autumn leaves, and I want to see the sunset underneath
A chic side of the city
Autumn leaves spread over the hillside
To the heights, to the depths, to the junction of the peaks and the firmament
Spread out. As if this were autumn
Vast and secluded
But there was still moderation
The branches set off the autumn leaves, like a torch dotted with stars
In the traffic and the sound of people
Leave blank
I want to sit between the layer of fallen autumn leaves and the floating soil
Untie your laces at a leisurely pace
Give a note to sleepy city life
Remove the shackles of meaning and concentrate
Be a reckless idler
Meditate without distraction
Sink into the hidden veins of a red leaf
No matter how much noise there is around
At the moment also
Only the flow of time can be heard—the intriguing silence
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A letter to a neighbor
I want to write at the beginning: Dear neighbor so-and-so
I want to send the letter to the inverted pier
It doesn't matter, but I just want to tell you
It's already winter, and there's been a snowfall. Maybe I can't go back anytime soon
I had candles and tea sets in my bedroom in Beijing
In case of a power outage
The giant thorn hanging in the heart
It also occasionally causes palpitations
The secrets were getting more and more, and I took them
Store it on a hard drive given by a friend
I'm going to have my first child on earth
I'm going to name it from or to it
So-and-so neighbor. Probably I'll be for a long time
Lost messages
Maybe you'll exhort that this is okay
Alone
Nor is it a terrible thing
Just free time
Think about the past or tomorrow
Am I mature? Why is there still mud and ash on the clothes
Can I just be a stubborn stone?
Stubborn, hard, holding nature gives me the way I am
Allow me not to mention sad things
The candles are clear, and the river nurtures us from generation to generation
No matter how many blocks there are, they will eventually be diluted by time
Dear neighbor, remember to help me pull out the weeds on the ground
Tidy up
I'll have to go back at some point
I will use it to plant what I love dearly
Grapes and tomatoes
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Photo by Liu Jiangmei
I want to move all the houses to the river
I want to save stone, cement, wood and craftsmen
Sent back to the empty mountain, the mother of all things
I want to keep only one house
There was only an old rattan chair on the empty balcony
I guess it only has a name
Content is reserved for later visitors who are looking for our trail
There was only one house, standing alone
Floating on the vast river
How turbulent or calm the water flow is
There will be good weather in my house on the river
That's when the old rattan chair comes in handy
I'm going to lie down, peel rice dumplings, and eat sweets
You only have one waterway to see me, and you only have a quarter of an hour
Float on the surface of the water
At this time, I have to stop all the work in my hands
Sniff the pine resin hanging from your shirt
superfluous
Without plums in winter, snow is superfluous
If the snow breaks the mountains
The trail of beasts is superfluous
People die like lights go out. There is no sorrow or joy in coming
Worry is superfluous
After the rain
After the rain, the Wenga pasture, the mountains and grasses are hidden in the depths of the morning fog
A few horses along the soothing slopes
Nibble on grass seeds and occasionally look up—the white clouds are fresh and distant
I reclined against the railing and smoked
Imagine the ranch's night, the stars and the river
I'm glad I was still young
Passing through here (before eternal death comes.)
Which day is not a passing path? ）
I should write it down
This is a rare moment of silence
As if on the prairie
Rain and sunny days are ready for me
Write or scribe
It seems that every grain has been imprisoned by life for a long time
The salt of the language
All are returning, slowly, returning to the world to light up my original heart
The first rays of light
Now, I just have to close my eyes
Let yourself grow into a grass
A Kelsang flower, a brass vessel, a comb
For yourself to grasp
Also for yourself a little familiarity
I was shaped by the earth and the starry sky in my imagination
Atrial tranquility
I could almost hear it, on the wooden floor every time
Slight rattle
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Think of a woman who loves to climb mountains
Which mountain do you come back from in the evening, temples and monks, can a few gray pigeons fly overhead?
Did the soles get weeds and mud?
I've also thought about doing a few things with you, secretly and implicitly
It seems to be love, and it seems to be nothing.
Thought of by a mural
I haven't taken a train in a long time
Those villages in the drizzle
And the dead vines have been precipitated. Like capillaries
Blood that transports memories
Feed my tired body
It also helped me get out of the trap of thinking
I haven't been carefully for a long time
Observe a mural
It could be a fierce horse, or it could be a coat
But now, I'm awake
It's the green train in the drizzle
The whistle sounded urgently
Break through the night
Arrive in Hohhot in the morning light
Probably I didn't have much chance to decipher it
The hidden relationship between them
Trains, horses, and beige coats
At least at some point in time
They are isolated from each other
Like my drunken mood last night
Heidegger said that phenomena are essences. But that won't be the only one
Interpretation seems redundant
How much I would like to have it if possible
Every train is cloaked in beige
Late homecoming
Mom, every path I'm familiar with
Couldn't get back to our home
The metro station and overpass I passed
Every street lamp
Many stories have been lit up
But it has nothing to do with us
Mom, I've been walking
On the way home
Only tonight, very suddenly
Want to make a phone call
A building that I can call a name for
Point it out to you
Mom, now I'm grown up
Never want you to worry again
I've searched for countless words
It's just not a pronunciation
Be able to accurately express my guilt
They have grown
A few thorns that are difficult to remove
But Mom, I need torches
Incinerate prejudice and mustard
How do I write your name well?
Mom, when I
Very suddenly I want to tell you what is on my mind
- Dedicated to Paz
When the daisies on the balcony once again ushered in the dawn
I thought I had found the answer.
These irregular geometries and colors
Hand an olive branch to the autumn wind.
The railroad tracks I imagined came, inch by inch
Wedge into the throat of a solitary
They pass through tunnels and prop up the giant iron curtain of death
Give me the opportunity to be close to you, the Sun Stone.
They are the roars created by countless birds at the same time
Another flap spreads out naturally
And eventually intertwine at some point in your control
"Looking for a living date". *
Now, I will have the same October as you, the same confusion
I live here alone
The roar and impact were my elderly neighbors
I am the broken part of the tracks
Greedily ask for rain, food and love poems
I named each territory:
Mexico City. I've been here all my life
Plant daisies one after another
They never wither
Like the first time I read you, every character is a wedge.
I decided to unload the heavy flesh
Remove ears and fingers, remove the ability to love
Willingly accept enslavement
Spread all the rails through the balcony towards you.
I had to try forging an iron nail
Feed the edge with sperm blood
- Except for you at five o'clock in the afternoon
No one deserves to break into my lonely territory.
Note: * Partly quoted from Paz's Sun Stone.
Fourteen lines written for Fei Bai
I used a morning to tidy up my bedroom
I'll have to replenish it before dark
Items that need to be added
Wooden trellises, quilts, and several local chronicles.
I was aware of myself
It is also trapped in the whirlpool brewed earlier
Sickly flesh is like a storm thrown into a great wave
A lonely boat.
The night was still very long, and I often wondered, my friend
What you get tired of first
I was once alone
Sit alone deep in the mountains and watch the sunset sweep over the buckwheat fields and fall towards your city.
I seemed to wake up in an instant
The sunset, like us, has a sadness that wants to stop talking.