nocturne

translated by PLS

along the bank you would mistake the willow twigs as your own feet and start flying

it’s actually the light heart that catches the spring in the wind as it pounds upward

bursts of music bursts of silky warmth bow down to tell you to forgo formalities

keeping your hand afloat at a level with a margin of error of a few millimetres

we greet as we watch the way to not fall behind to head east to the pavilion together

the burnt scent of fragrance of flowers in the late spring of the spring late in arrival unfolding its timidity in full

plain petals thin and soft biding farewell to this and to that have all been dismissed

there was only a tenth of dusk left the rest belongs to the evening alone

the mixture of dazzling ersatz orange pineapple pear first fills the light bulb

then bubbling bubbling into a whole fish wandering around fingers holding orange

cellophane-wrap-green river water kneaded and rubbed then slowly smoothed out to the silver banks

reflecting the unwhole brilliance of clothing shop hardware shop and barbershop

night is an enormous dark ship anchored to the head then what stands affront is the towering captain

then there should be a multitude of boats above the sides of which crowding into a giant roar

oh you how come you are also in the crowd are you also here to see this floating monstrosity

in this steep night we even recognise each other among the endless crowds of people

I fell from the window of a riverside hotel because the wind blows the other way

I smelled you in this wind so I swam across without any hesitation

do people cluster here just to witness the boat after boat of dark scenery

no no who doesn’t swim blindly downward it’s not the beauty of night

I believe there is silent gold all over this ship it just needs to be shone over

even though being swapped this night is no longer the one I still believe that the valuable

not to be revealed treasures always bury themselves in the dark trunks and stay buried

only through this way can we explain what mastership the night dark as such carries

there must be something that balaclava-ed across the night already half spent in a blink

strange how you live here don’t even mention how time flies and that it’s difficult to meet by chance

where is that beautiful guy who used to snuggle up to you like an oar that never leaves the boat

he either dipped into someone else’s water or swam to another bank

it turns out these kind of obvious fruitless events first keep adorning night by night

then turn you into a green mist of luxuriant foliage like a landscape tree free of the burden of fruits

how I am scared of being girdled by your lushness like the chirping of birds I already wish to see the summer

once summer is really here the summer filled with nightingales and partridges is definitely not my abode

the night is all my sluggishness I flow toward all your sluggishness is a heavy night

deep yet dull night doesn’t mean the casual profundity on the pointer there must be something on the great ship

the pile of my flowery verses my flowery verses piling up how I wish to gift them to you piece by piece

how to unload them you touch the darkness over this ship only to feel it without the desire to examine the goods

thus is the night night-ing over and over again without a place to moor the next day the sky is blue and cloudless

when our pavilion just starts to glimmer there’s a sudden parting between the shrike and the swallow

in the centre of the ground is the tiresome reed instrument surrounded by new leaves mirroring shadows

you are far gone too far away now whereas me I am also broken into pieces, slenderly with a clunk

9. Nocturne - 杰