A Peninsula Facing the East

When rocks expand like vegetation,
eastward, eastward,
tourists get less crowded here.

You draw in the wind an outline of a peninsula,
fold it—an increasing clear rim
of twilight.

You walk into the center of the twilight. It
moves with you eastward, in a shimmering,
dimming gleam like a candlelight.

I open and spread you, the in-the-wind entity,
a faint blue thing,
and extend it to a dark green bay.

From four to seven pm, I repeatedly fold, open,
shaped and unshaped.

向东的半岛

向东的半岛

当礁石以植物的速度
向东伸展
簇拥的游人开始稀少

你把风叠成半岛的形状
把半岛叠成
一圈圈扩大的暮色的形状

你在暮色的中心
向东移动，披着微光
像披着烛火

我展开你风中的心
从幽蓝的大海
展开乌青的大海

从下午四点到七点，是反复
折叠和打开的三小时