| Broken
Xu Zhimo
1
Sitting on a deep, deep
night, A dim glow at the window, Dust balls rolling Down the alley: I want to compose a broken,
broken tune With the dull tip of my pen To express my broken
thoughts.
2
Sitting on a deep, deep
night, The night chill at the
window chinks, Jealous of the warmth fading
from the room, Does not forgive my limbs: I’ll use my drying ink to
sketch Some broken, broken
patterns, For broken are my thoughts.
3
Sitting on a deep, deep
night, With grotesque shadows
around me: Withered trees Screech on the bank of an
icy river And gesture in wild despair, Like me in my broken, broken
consciousness Trying to rebuild a broke
world.
4
Sitting on a deep, deep
night, I reminisce with my eyes
closed: Ah, when she was still a
cool white lotus In the morning breeze,
delicate beyond compare. But I am neither sunshine
nor dew; All I have is my broken
breath Like the mice locked up in
the wall, Scuffling about, chasing
after darkness and the void!
（Michelle Yeh 译） |
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