瑞典 埃斯普马克 Espmark  瑞典  
anthology
Multiple poems at a time
outland poetry

anthology
诗选

   Espmark

Biblioclast
You turn to read my experience,
I should have burned those pages.
However you have accomplished nothing. You do not understand it?
You want from the old master works of Li Zhi
Sentence can be invoked to find a line that is
Futile. No one out research
My text. I am writing light, such as rabbits jump
Attack, such as Falcon. Does not meet the readers,
I should not write what you call brush
Masterpiece of the kind of quotations.
I have books in other side of the blank page to write,
In between the lines of questioning,
Without writing a blank page rebuttal argument.
So you never have to agree with me. To doubt my words
More debate and more clearly in the works of identifying your role -
But it quickly slipped out already insight
Your new identity trap.
Falcons fly high again.
I live in a larger text,
Exposure to many officials are not worth reading among
Muttered the king's duty,
And behind him
Severe style is suave,
Without a trace of personal voice.
I am born for the destruction of that text.
Time to mature in the Year of the Pig.
But my language the word has always been accustomed to attacks,
But hesitate. So many excuses.
Smart in the hands of my scribe the tip of the brush.
I own slowly forward, like a flock of millet silkworm,
Not alone, no, according to two feet standing in the clan,
Thirty-mouth to feed in the head.
Thirty of the soul toward the same position -
How can I _set_ the expense of that hunger?
In addition, the rebels can only create a new syntax,
Always a kind of hero.
The most sophisticated in the hair
They re-erected temple.
Many gathered in front of my house excuse,
Time to die.
I have no time to understand the real reason.
I hope this time the significance of a
Marginal notes in exchange for my eternal.
I was the fulfillment of the curse of prayer.
I will be wrapped in one of my acts ash
Then arrived at, such as Falun wearing iron shoes.
Gap at the thought of others jot notes under the
Has been collected, be named as "book burning."
I believe that the disclosure was made by me cite
I will Suoming. Now I know
Text more dangerous than that,
They have been for centuries the object of the fire looking for.
The real message
Between the Bifeng already burned.
Good ideas are smoke flavor.
I really miss you, my friend, all the time
Does not refute my work, suffering, and I suffered
Exactly the same impatience and anger of torture.
You get me to the eternal:
False, the message certainly is one.
Yes, I think so! But as I depletion,
I would like to destroy everything conclusions.
When my colleagues remain committed to the pursuit of Tao
I discourage them, asking them why not
Day to enjoy the joy of birth,
And their wives and then a walk in the month,
Enjoying an pipa music,
Feel the cool breeze sweep collar.
No wonder
I was regarded as heresy court
Lang pan and then in jail. End up
The razor is my only friend.
I have a conclusion to the next:
The history of your time comes -
No excuses,
They would definitely line up in your waiting on the stairs.
Wait for it to enter text with a smoldering edge.
Or to receive my death:
I will throw it back over your escape
Like a dead dog.
Annotation: Li Zhi (1527-1602), No. Zhuo Wu, Ming thinker and writer. Yunnan Yao'an former prefect, fifty-year-old resign. After middle school, and Zen by the influence of Wang Yangming. Lectures books later years, was to reveal the hypocritical. Repeated persecution, before committing suicide in prison. He heresy itself, against the Confucian ethics, denounced the hypocritical moralists. With a "book burning", "added book burning," etc., is listed as banned in the Ming Dynasty.
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Xian Terracotta Warriors
We staggered to
What light bite people? There is no armed.
Unreal sword hands,
Wooden handles are corrosion,
Copper blade is plunging to the ground, green,
Delicate as eggshells. On my face
I felt the panic of the expression of others.
My muscles spasm Luan turn in their bodies
Ecstasy will not find us:
In our lips froze above the shouting,
Ravings of reconciliation so that we can not raving.
Can go into battle without armor, the vanguard -
Encounter with the future
Intoxicating is our armor.
We waited trembling, catching
Dependent pile of fragments, shamelessly
Seek support from others. I completely understand:
Our troops really invincible?
Close to my side
I perceive the horse ventral:
Raising the ground just stiff scream sound.
I am still half asleep.
Prior to the instant
I also have a perception, it was pursuing me,
She was as close as skin, knees,
Thick hair bands, hair was neat and well-spaced
Drawn to the ground
When I search my lips beat groin -
She was still guarding her name section
I leave them in the past century:
A gradual melting of the face,
A fading voice
The only people who know me lonely.
Now only the ray of light.
Nothing happens.
A nearby archer, kneeling,
Crossbow aimed at beating the light,
Did not, handle, do not bow, rust-stained
Arrow falling ground.
He must have a First Name Last Name. Or actually
Even the name of a forgotten people do not?
And judging by the situation
He is our best archers:
His arrows never in vain and corrupt.
But he is the subject of what?
Eyes I saw fear.
Lips due to the immediate scene and Jin Min.
Fired black clay lip tension.
His back has a narrow width and hand skin
There is no protection, bubbling, black -
No one can understand the peeling off of the text.
This is the ultimate loneliness.
Formation changes are thirty-eight kinds of loneliness.
I rushed to the front, my hat
A bird, from the top of the head off.
Order records, we stagger
Zairu enhanced light.
Tiles for the eyes to the pain
I was overwhelmed to see the flash of scattered,
White hot.
They are greeted with a drunk's face:
Ruthless. I know them!
I know your face.
I have only a thought,
More like a mass of squirming behind the forehead empty,
Difficult to capture.
I understand that you trust our
We must feel helpless.
Self-head, since these
Debris off the birds,
To help you bring to us the message.
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When the language of death ... ...
When the language of death
The deceased has died again.
The furrows in the wet shine
Sharp turning soil words
Filled with steaming coffee, a gap of text,
Had a moment reflecting
Noisy elms windows and window
Bright but slightly peeling language word
To blush with a mood of self-confidence
Groping in the dark
Aromatic character secret language:
These give the dead life
Life outside
Let students share their words more words of memory
Has just been abandoned outside of history.
So great that the shadow of the scattered!
First Name Last Name can be no safe haven
They eventually forced into exile.
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The Third Quartet Caribbean
If the amount of sweat on the close but live in
Another layer of time off you ah:
Catch us, so we were snatched away by the wind
Scattered in different centuries.
Within the province during the night
Eyes, smile to know the way
Guardian of the field you
When we fall asleep in the patch
Broken fence, anticipatory you,
We are waiting for dawn in the polished language word you ah:
Do not we lose our patience.
Without you, not a bread, bread,
Without you, the land brittle as sugar,
Without you, our language will back away.
Your death has created the vitality of our lives.
Pay close attention to your cold hands with us.
  
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