Iron hoofs trampling overhead
Even an urgent dispatch cannot sound
The trumpet for an expedition
For swords have long rusted
And chariots have been trapped in the quagmire of history
This grand army
Having put their rivers and mountains aside
Conceals their identity
And holds wakes only for a single dead monarch
Translated by NI Qinghang
2九月
云朵褪掉全身羽毛
枯叶流落街头
草原精心布下的局
被一阵凉风搅黄
寂寞占领了
一个又一个山头
往事走不出死亡的阴影
勉强活下来的
只有诗
September
By WEI Yanlie
Clouds shed their feathers
Withered leaves drift down the street
The layout that grassland has carefully designed
Is scuppered by a cold wind
Loneliness has occupied
One mountain after another
Past events can not walk out of the death's shadow
What barely survives
Is nothing but poetry
A stone
Cherishing the oracle of the immortals
Falls from the sky
Like a stele
Wedging into the journey of life
The wheels chanting
A poem
Roll into the distance
To a few cicada chirpings on the pillow
A migrant worker is lying on a wooden bench
With sunshine sieved by plane trees
Rendering his mud-covered coarse cloth garment
Embroidered with patterns
He, like a slumbering leopard
Squeezes a smile through the cracks between his teeth
To lean to one side
He has fallen into the world
Like a withered yellowish leaf
Like a woman who is going away for a long trip
Rifling through the wardrobe for some old clothes
Which she tries again and again
Upon the wind's whisper
Like a butterfly
She
With a flutter
Flies up and indicates for me
The way home