Youthful Poems: The Waterlogged Brain of Being Madly in Love
2006/6/17 12:49:47
Love, being madly in love — all waterlogged-brain nonsense. this ID has unfortunately discovered that among the youthful poems found this time, there is an absurd abundance of products manufactured by a waterlogged brain. It seems puberty hormones are truly life's greatest toxin, capable of making a twelve- or thirteen-year-old brain churn out this much literary garbage in one go. Here are a dozen or so excerpts, presented as a cautionary warning!
I
My beloved, how shamelessly greedy I am,
every waking moment craving to drink my fill
of the nectar of life hidden in your flowing gaze
to nourish my long-parched heart.
My beloved, how shamelessly extravagant I am,
squandering without a thought all the
loathing and bewilderment you bestowed upon me,
leaving an unbearable void in my emotions.
My beloved, how shamelessly cruel I am,
casting those angelic memories of old
into this dungeon deep in my soul, bathed in tainted blood,
letting the passage of time dissolve them away.
Ah, my beloved, this is what I am —
a greedy, extravagant, cruel creature.
II
Longing is a bud in full bloom,
Longing is a cold and damp furnace;
Longing is a flock of kind-hearted demons,
Longing is a sweltering ice cave.
Longing is a tottering tower that never falls,
Longing is a dazzling sun in ashen black;
Longing is a barren oasis,
Longing is a waterless ocean.
Longing is the smiling tear-stain of a lover,
Longing is the sincere lie of the lovestruck;
Longing, this rich man's son, hasn't a penny,
Longing, this wandering child, has coffers overflowing.
Longing is an arrow belonging only to the god of love,
yet only that god of love has no need for longing.
III
Sunlight spills down from the azure sky,
softly bathing all things between heaven and earth.
Upon the naked ground, little dust motes
lazily begin a waltz.
On the horizon, faintly,
a few gray clouds drift about,
the breeze yawns and stretches,
gently teasing the sleeping branches.
Suddenly, the bright earth whips up a whirlwind,
the sun stumbles in panic into an oncoming net of clouds.
The poor branches haven't even opened their drowsy eyes
before pelting raindrops set them trembling without cease.
Alas! In this cruel prank orchestrated by the heavens,
I glimpse once more my mercurial beloved.
IV
I do not know why I'm so besotted with you,
love's flames churn, giving me no peace;
I do not know why I cannot part from you,
perhaps the riddle of love can only be explained by love.
How can I forget that chance backward glance,
those clear eyes igniting the passion in my heart,
giving the lonely soul someone to lean on,
cosmic radiance polishing my bewildered spirit.
Ah, beloved, can you bring back that moment,
ah, dear friend, can you make that moment eternal.
The cosmic light flashes and is gone,
but you, dearest one,
can you suspend that moment for me.
V
This is an ancient ballad,
without the dazzling scenery of the times,
it is so pale and feeble,
coming from a shattered heart.
People may often shed tears
for the grains of sand blown into their eyes,
people may ceaselessly bleed
for the slaughter over power, fame, profit, and lust.
But I — these teary eyes, this bleeding heart of mine,
are all for you — so near yet worlds apart.
VI
Oh, beloved, I have never thought of you, dreamed of you,
your face, your figure, have never left the slightest trace upon my heart;
your arrogance, your cruelty, have never caused me the faintest heartache,
everything about you means absolutely nothing to me.
I have no heart, I have lost my soul, only a numb body remains.
Everything that was once mine is gone, nothing more can be lost,
everything that could be lost has been offered to you — only Death remains!
Do you need that too, my Death? —
Take it, take it! This is my final offering,
no heart, no soul, and now bereft of even Death.
VII
Farewell, life! Farewell, dream-companion!
I shall depart this worldly clamor,
to reach that carefree pure land,
roaming in rapture across the boundless heavens.
Life's venom has tortured me beyond endurance,
Death's nectar shall free me from all sorrow.
If the living cannot taste love's fragrance,
the Reaper shall fulfill my every wish!
VIII
My soul is shrouded in darkness; only in song can I find peace,
the singing comes from your soul, like a breeze over my deathly still heart-pond.
Ah, rooster of the dawn! Do not cease your singing,
this foul stagnant water awaits the very first ray of morning light.
IX
Listen, how melancholy the singing,
mourning the summer that died too young,
autumn wind with the endless falling leaves,
your smile appears before my eyes once more.
The singing rises from the depths of this heart,
wearing tears to adorn a smiling face,
like radiant blossoms in the morning light,
each teardrop there to decorate them.
Beautiful flowers, dreamlike smile,
my singing is the fertile soil where you take root,
if dew can make the flowers more radiant,
I shall weep forever to water you.
X
Beloved, quickly let your tender gaze wipe the sorrow from my face,
quickly let your strong hands melt the years of frost upon my heart.
Pain once made each step a struggle, like a lamb collapsed beside the road,
sighing without end, wandering without limit — only you give me hope to live.
Come, my dear one, and give me that eternal ray of light.
XI
Gray
sky
gray
windowsill
powerless
dreaming of
the proud white swan on a pale blue pond
XII
Again, again I long to relive those beautiful days with you,
in life's wandering, we two stubbornly hold to each other's course,
and there — the spring-rain lakeside pavilion, a lonely island in life's vast sea,
granting us, unluckily run aground, an unexpected reunion.
No fiery embrace, much less a frenzied kiss,
only silent standoff and the painful collision of two hearts.
Weigh anchor! This voyage of life shall never cease,
I follow in your wake only to catch that perhaps unintended glance.
Propping open weary eyes, helplessly watching your sail recede into the distance,
the blaze burning in my heart drives me to wade forward in abandon,
at last, the great waves churned by your ship strike me down, utterly spent,
trembling, I lunge for the gunwale and with my final breath calmly say with a smile:
"Oh, beloved, open your long-sealed door
and let these two separated hearts share one crimson, lingering kiss."
XIII
How many sleepless white nights have I endured,
all of it passing like a wisp of cloud and smoke.
Across the deep blue sky, a few wild geese seem to drift,
the conch horn by the sea awakens the dawn's lament.
Can all this be but a dreamlike bewilderment,
why do bleeding eyes conjure visions
of the swan on the water, brow lowered in mournful song.
What besides fantasy is worth lingering over —
wasn't it pain that scattered happiness's fading sunset clouds.
The shaman's blessing grants an intoxicating peace,
the grandeur of mountains plunges me into endless infatuation.
No need to brood over the fall of shooting stars —
it is love's hot blood calling them to embrace
the clouds, fearlessly igniting the flames of destruction.
缠中说禅 2006/6/18 8:33:40
this ID is going to become a monk — and would certainly join a monastery, only to turn it into a brothel!