Book of the Sadness

Sadness moves slowly as if on a horseback
forward, forward, the rainy clouds are low
touching our foreheads.

We can’t fall asleep at the white night,
so we talk about colors of love—
mischievous swallows flying around us.

Be honest. And be even more honest at work.
Your simple life embraces subtleties.
Yes, the ocean is big, and lonely.

The earth will remember you and every particle of you.
Your thinning hand waves to the morning dew,
wishing the book will live one year longer than yourself.

Now I’ve circled the ocean one more time.
Are the white foams the ever-green gratitude of a flying bird?
The discourse is mingled with loud waves.

悲伤集

悲伤集

悲伤是坐在马背上，
缓缓前行，雨云低低地
碰触我们的头顶。

我们在白夜里睡不着觉，
一路上谈恋爱的颜色，
开玩笑的燕子忽前忽后。

应该诚实、更加诚实的劳作，
你的单纯中蕴含着微妙，
是啊，海大，海太寂寞。

地球记得你，记得每一颗粒子，
你已消瘦的手指向朝露，
笑着祝愿书比自己多活一年。

如今我独自又在绕海一周，
白沫可是飞鸟永不逝去的感念？
话语还夹杂在浪涛的喧嚣里。