A Bunch of Chitchat
2008/8/3 8:25:09
It's Sunday, nothing to do. Recently the injections have been reduced from before — 750 milliliters per day, which takes about 3 hours to finish.
August is very important. Just looking at the monthly chart for stocks alone shows the significance of August. Whether July's doji is a continuation pattern or the bottom candle of a bottom fractal will determine the trend for the next N months. Corresponding to reality, how the massive bearish expectations after the Olympics are dissolved is an urgent matter for both the stock market and the economy.
Of course, some fools will never learn what real regulation is. True regulation, at its root, is the regulation of human psychology — this is genuine macroeconomic regulation. But this cannot be taught to those Western-style fools. Let them die in whatever materialist fashion they please. Snow can fall in June, and in June one can also pull a thick comforter over one's head and sleep soundly.
In the replies I noticed a response poem — it's among the more interesting replies to this ID's poetry, though it still has quite a few shortcomings. At least the tonal patterns aren't completely correct in any of the poems, which is not good. But the expression of meaning is passable. I recall there was once someone who responded to one of this ID's ci poems, and it was quite well written too. I can't remember exactly, but the last line was something like "drunk, lying by the wild bridge, facing east." Beyond those, there's basically nothing noteworthy.
Being lazy, I'll append this reply as filler. Signing off, see you later.
Snow Night Ice River
I love your poetry, here's a response poem.
Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán Original:
Boundless the horizon, boundless the autumn; embroidered clouds and misty waters drift through the void. Who pities the west ridge after the west wind blows? Longing fills the ground, sorrow fills the ground!
Wind and rain fill the city, autumn fills the city; a single river spans the sky, heaven and earth flow. Alone I climb the solitary peak, pouring out a hundred measures; cloaked in clouds, I roar away the sorrows of past and present.
Each spell of wind and rain, each spell of autumn; still the green mountains pillow the jade-green stream. Blood-splattered rainbow piercing heaven and earth; Xi He's whip falls — the six dragons grieve.
Eternal sky, spring returning to autumn; a single dawn of wind and moon, stars suddenly streaming. Deep among tangled peaks beneath the setting sun — leaves fall, flowers fly, sorrow mourns itself.
Snow Night Ice River's Response:
A curtain of autumn water, a curtain of autumn; red mountains, green ridges, seeking romance. Knowing you with one smile that tips the Northern Dipper — not understanding longing, not understanding sorrow.
Asking not about wind and rain, asking not about autumn; a mountain of sunset, the river flowing full. Idly speaking of flowers covering Jiangdong — letting the west wind and iron steeds carry their sorrow.
Half a city of thoughts, half a city of autumn; a half-crescent new moon flowing beneath the bridge. Who holds a green umbrella seeking green alleyways — asking only of parting, not of sorrow.
One page of green spring, one page of autumn; one petal of a fragrant heart flowing on the pillow. Regretting only that in dreams there is no Yellow Crane — seeing no misty waves, seeing only sorrow.