By An Ran
Walking out of the wheat field,
an empty wheat stalk
dodges the scorching stupidity on the road.
The landscape begins to melt.
Gold flows across the docile vast plain.
It resists the scythe,
resists the ancient romance,
yet does not know that those have already become broken, dim, severed streams.
The ancient finds no footnote on this leveled land,
cannot find the imagined Tang locusts or Song cypresses.
Only brand-new seedlings and ancient giants remain—
only what is older than the ancient itself:
survival.
要像一棵空乏的麦秸
文/安然
走出麦田
一棵空乏的麦秸
躲避着路上滚烫的愚蠢
风景开始熔化
金子在驯顺的大平原上流淌
它抗拒镰刀
抗拒古老的浪漫
却不知那已是破碎、幽暗的断流
古老在那片被平整过的土地上找不到注脚
找不到想象中的唐槐与宋柏
只有崭新的幼苗与古老的巨人
只有比古老还古老的
生存
