Random Writings (2016)

Warmth (1.1)
Looking at the texts of the past
time is walking in the rift
adjectives and verbs converting
tender affection
arranged into sections of rising falling
narrative
on a yellowed paper
haunting of impressions
a ray of golden sunshine appears
cavorting on the ocean
sprinkled onto the heart
time is quiet
a library for stories
an old record releasing melodies
and golden warmth.


Fireflies (1.1)
Glorious night
with little stars
on the path of insects
walking starlight
the laughter of summer
in a small
house.

(1.4)
The color blue
is the skin of the ocean
the color is undoubtedly
unforgettable
like a dream
full of unknown and fantasy
like dazzling light of
sapphire
like the eyes of medusa
quiet and deep
the blue of ocean
everlasting
in this world.


(1.20)
The smoke and dust of history
can't be dissipated
magnificence of a palace
dimmed
icicles of winter reflecting
relentless shadow of sword


(1.21)
Alone in the evening
listening to the outdoor rain
vast vague thoughts get
heavier
raindrops under the eaves
wrapped around the evening
a little house stumbles
and falls
into a childhood dream.


City (1.21)
The sun
last vestiges of reason
fall on the scaffold
next to the station
the light
from a million years ago
faint and shining infirmly
on the square
shadows big and small
cast on the hefty marble floor
sun and moon flowing in spacetime
crossing the last square beam
the most primitive color of the universe
rises up
to the sky.


(1.30)
The kite
despite the pulling force on the ground
still it flies high and proud
building a bridge
between two worlds
with a thin thread
melting the affection
of the springtime snow
lightning that roasts the clouds
cries all summer
the dreamy kite
like a madman
wanting to free
the whole world
the windless wasteland
stretching an endless line
endless game
we need to be like the kite
dancing freely
with the broken world.



Greetings (2.8)
The language hidden
at the bottom of the heart
it gives a clear sound
it ripples elegantly
a small gesture is more lucid
than a thousand words
an echo that lingers in the heart
like driftwood flowing with the sand
undergoes the milling of time
ends in a bright flash.

(2.8)
Guarding bridges
castles
medieval squares
sawrthy and incomplete
yet so divine
winter overhangs the water
golden falling leaves
studded with wings
nose and mouth aren't just for breathing
light at one side of the river
darts at the soul
through wars
survival or destruction
wind gropes for its face...

(2.9)
Books are the pier
of a sailing voyage
books are the beacon
of the way
forward
books are the soaring spring
of poetry.

(2.10)
Sunset
golden skyline
suffused with
glowing waves
quietly
intoxicating
embrace nature
treasure the twilight
before nightfall.

(2.21)
The setting sun scattering
splotches of gold
turquoise water sparkling
mallard ducks spreading
emotions and feelings
writings on the monument
at the end of the bridge
blurred
the once turning watermill
revealing ruins
ruthless flowing water
annihilating all
the past glories


(2.21)
Lightning
accompanied by thunder
clear sounds of cries
sending brightness
back to earth
lightning
sundering dark sky
irrigating the heart of land
with tears
expunging scars
rekindling
the flame of hope
the spiritual space
after the storm
the sun will still be bright
as always.


Eaves of love (2.8)
life has a lot of
wind and rain
not all rain
can destroy the spring
and autumn of love
the eaves
a foothold for a wait
no pretended tenderness
no trecherous intentions
a few seconds of stay
that give us everything in life
it's a kind greeting
it's the pursuit of faith
as we turn away
we will remember the eaves of love
whatever storm may come
there'll always be a shelter
for the spirit
overhead.
------------------------------------
Childhood
The past is free
no one wants an answer
with staring eyes
except a few playful cats
it was easy
ball in the irises
across the boundary
a slob daredevil
doesn't like to read
wrinkling wrintings into lightning
the next moment is storm
when it rains
it's a bird's funeral
pebbles built into a grave
sadness that remains is
but 20 minutes
candles under the bed
the entire forest
hidden in a matchbox
castle can be found
even when one is
barefoot.
----------------------------------------
Meadow
The wind at dusk
dancing shadows in a meadow
with no direction
a faint crow
blurred body like a whale swimming
touching those thorny moments
with strong eyes
black and white
drifitng in the wind
painful memories
hot in the glaciers
emotions of winter
fluttering in
spring.
------------------------------------------
What is dream
dream is a special feeling
every dream is
true mystery
happy
or sad
clear
or cunfused
when awakended
the mountains
the water
the man
the thing
are they still
green mountains
river
or
have they changed
feeling the warmth of sunshine
is this warmth a dream
it can't be answered
because it is
still a true
mystery.
Purple clouds
Cold winter wanders on earth
Pink and purple milk vetch
Weaving clouds
Thin gentle clouds
A flowery quilt
Warming the field
Strings of purple flowers
Sounds of cuckoos
Sowing the seeds
of hope.