Modern Poetry
Tropical asiatic palm-tree bearing white flowers and orange or red nuts my ilk
槟榔树：我的同类
Ji Xian
High nut trees.
This simple and mysterious nut trees.
And I kind of nut trees.
Swaying with the nut trees.
Meditation with the nut trees.
So that the rich ambience of the island the evening of the nut trees.
Nut trees, ah, you better posture to standing,
In the growth of your land, throughout the year intact.
I was rushing back and forth multiple, complex wandering stray,
Pulling a slender shadow, a heavy shadow,
From one city to another, indefinitely.
Now, let me rely on your torso,
Sitting in the shade of your leaves, warble poetry.
Let me put down my luggage,
Rest for a while before you go.
Autumn in this multi-island,
I am nostalgic tone,
Inevitably sad end with some children.
Rustle, rustling.
Rustling, whispering.
I listen to your unique Yanjuan language
Child tears are slowly falling.
Your unique language, like my simple.
Your unique language, like my mystery.
Swaying you, you thought.
Tall areca palm,
Ah, my kind,
You are a lonely, lonely life.
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