- Home
- Editor's Notes
- Current Issue
- Riki Reflects
- Spiritual Traveler
- Starz Emporium
- Classifieds
- Advertise with Us
- Submissions
- Awards
- About Us
- Contact Us
A Journey to the Four Quarters
By Chen Ruizhe
 Chen Ruizhe It's autumn The earthen eaves dripped into the courtyard I put my hand into the stack of wheat under the eaves Summer's temperature gives me The autumn temperature gives them A bird's head is heavy with rain. In exchange for summer's tail feathers Massachusetts climbing eaves to find The wind blows the wheat grain I hold an umbrella through the rain Go to see the pomegranate willow is muddy and soft and grass is fine Cross the lane to rest I hold more water dripping from the skirt of my coat, and I wash my shoes with ripples I think the moisture in the hem Rain like a wall When I sat down The sky is clear and the water is obedient Sparkling Sophora japonica leaves Like the sleeves I changed White Dish Wei Tang After I left Who peeled your dream again The sound of frogs in the silent wild pond yesterday I watched your gibberish from the highlands They were cruising along the shore Before I came here Who broke you into a dream again Even if the willows grow to call you Even if the sunset dyes your eyes with crimson You don't even speak. You didn't even shake it I'll let the skirt of your coat brush your beard Come and let Wei Yu kiss my sleeve clothes I traveled thousands of miles to meet you You are the breath beyond my sight Across the long bridge to my ears River cloud In your dreams veiled by reeds I'm not crouching at the bottom of the river I didn't choose to go deep into the darkness of the mud Is it abandoned by the spring I floated through the silence Become water vapor in a thousand miles of space In your dreams, I took away the traces of the wrong You take the countryside and put it on the beach The withered grass sank under its weight You plant green lotus in the mire Take off the water skirt bit by bit The flowers fell on the dry ground Those skirts of yours are strewn with dead leaves Use it to polish mud snails Those bands of yours are wrapped in cicadas' shells With which to weave the algal tree The sediment became silt If I go back to being a white cloud in the river I won't get dirty But I can't stop curling up Chen Ruizhe, pseudonym Su Yun, 16 years old, member of the Chinese Poetry Society, a young poet, works scattered in Chinese and foreign newspapers. BOOK: https://qr1.oss-rg-china-mainland.aliyuncs.com/20240805/261952/WITH_ECSTASY.pdf  |
Share this article with friends!
 |
Copyright © 1998 - 2024 Mystic Living Today All rights, including copyright, in the content of these Mystic Living Today web pages are owned or controlled for these purposes by Planet Starz, Inc. Terms of Service Disclaimer and Legal Information For questions or comment, contact Starzcast@mysticlivingtoday.com. Reproduction of this page in any form is not allowed without permission of the author and the owner of this site. All material on this web site, including text, photographs, graphics, code and/or software, are protected by international copyright and trademark laws. Unauthorized use is not permitted. You may not modify, copy, reproduce, republish, upload, post, transmit or distribute, in any manner, the material on this web site. Unless permissions is granted. If you have any questions or problems regarding this site, please e-mail Webmaster. Web site design by: Creative Net FX |