Nightmare
　　Da Mala home from his night over there,
　　Wrapped like a faint inside the glacier.
　　He marked with a pair of wings
　　Nightmare whimper and end position.
　　Did not wail, no dressing
　　And with his stripes bare arm.
　　Georgia church fence
　　Cross-border sheltered stone.
　　No matter how annoying hump top of the monument,
　　It is at least not in the shade of the fence lightly dance.
　　Lamp side of the suona
　　Daughter of the Duke mouth shut mention.
　　But flash Pushuo between hair,
　　A pair of white phosphorus as the sound of the pops.
　　The monster did not hear
　　Caucasian and white with sorrow.
　　Step away from the window in place
　　He wiped the hair on the mantle;
　　He pointed to Bingfeng oath:
　　"Sleep my dear, I will come back as an avalanche."
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Attachment
　　This volume in order to give a title in mind,
　　Desert into a mute.
　　Shouts and the lions, tigers as the dawn
　　Kipling could not make out.
　　A terrible love of
　　Hole as dry and Yuanshen show.
　　And they are shaking trembling, Mojian Cabei,
　　Drying of their own fur.
　　Now they shake along these lines of the poem,
　　Until vividly out of line;
　　They got into the mist across the glade,
　　Big dreams start with the Ganges.
　　Dawn cold and insidiously
　　Penetrate into the nest,
　　Moisture not only filled the jungle,
　　And incense filled.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Maiden
　　A golden cumulonimbus
　　Sleeping in the huge rocks.
　　---- Lermontov
　　From the swaying side of the garden, a small branch
　　Rather abruptly flew to the mirror.
　　Such a huge and palpable, straight branches
　　Also hung an emerald.
　　The yard a mess, enveloped in
　　This confusion in the blowing.
　　It is so lovely, broad, such as a garden, but the nature of
　　But more like a sister, the other mirror.
　　By this time, While this twig was _insert_ed in the cup,
　　Placed in the dressing of the frame before.
　　It was thinking ah, who block my line of sight,
　　Qiu Ju-like in this world of languorous in?
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Rain
　　Надпись на "Книге степи"
　　"Wilderness of the book" Inscription
　　She was with me. Enjoy playing,
　　Jumped it, to laughter, twilight torn to pieces!
　　To drown, to pass in one inscription,
　　Similar love towards you.
　　To rotate, like a cocoon, as
　　Gallop toward the window.
　　To wrap it, winding it,
　　And let the night fall more black.
　　Noon and night, rain is her combs.
　　Please take it on the wet rocks.
　　Yes, use the entire piece of wood
　　It swept into the eye, spirits, and a jasmine.
　　Bow down to you, Egypt was complete darkness!
　　They laugh and fall due to the ground.
　　Suddenly, he could feel the fresh air,
　　With thousands of people recovering from illness like.
　　Now we want to run, to toggle a string,
　　To join one hundred guitar ensemble,
　　The lime dip in the fog,
　　The tower of St a garden.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Out of superstition
　　This is printed with a red-orange matchbox
　　Is my small room.
　　It is not removed from a few days to leave the hotel room,
　　But the rest of the life.
　　I stay here again
　　But just out of superstition.
　　Fully yellow color of the wallpaper, like oak,
　　And this hinges on singing.
　　Has not let go of my hand latch
　　You struggle to let go.
　　I touch your forehead bangs,
　　My lips met Violet.
　　Honey, you are back here today,
　　In order to commemorate those old days;
　　Whisper of your skirt, like a snowdrop
　　In April, asked the to this.
　　How can you say you do not keep the fire of the saint:
　　When you come with a stool;
　　You remove my whole life, as taken from the ledges,
　　And blow off the dust of the above.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Bala Shove
　　Days, the coppersmith in your side
　　Riveting with a nail, a tin of water on the burning rod.
　　Spake he, like the general equity fund raising
　　Poured into poured oil on the fire.
　　No point in mind suppressed,
　　Listen to the sky singing: "I am you, I give you!"
　　Then it's songs to pass through the heat,
　　Floated cars, fell on hand luggage.
　　Chants drift in the rain,
　　Hit the grave mound, also hit the Moro people's brim dry,
　　Then picked up by the spruce
　　Waved goodbye with clouds.
　　High and low winds, huge as if the sun.
　　In the early autumn days,
　　Bala Shove in sadness
　　More like a deposition in the wound.
　　Pouring wet in July, like lapis lazuli,
　　Market is also pale, trembling in the trembling.
　　And that holy crazy
　　Still muttering, like a saw blade.
　　Friends, you ask me, who said
　　To burn the holy of raving mad?
　　That is the nature of linden trees, the nature of fire,
　　The nature of the summer to burn.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Summer stars
　　They finished a scary story,
　　Left the exact address.
　　They are wide open door, fuss with each other;
　　They move forward, just as on the stage.
　　Silence, I hear you all over
　　Become more moving.
　　Even flying bats
　　Also make some people feel disturbed.
　　July night, a small village
　　Have a beautiful blonde.
　　This has many reasons to make the sky
　　To much ado about nothing.
　　They shine on
　　A certain latitude;
　　They are one of a meridian from the
　　Shed joy and light.
　　Rose tentatively opened the evening breeze,
　　Under the plea in the lips,
　　The hair and shoes,
　　Under the apron and the nickname of the plea.
　　Wrapped in a cloud of hot gas,
　　They swept all their own,
　　They had all the toggle
　　Are scattered among the rubble.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Sparrow Hill
　　I kiss like the pot, poured the water falls on your breasts,
　　But the summer will not last forever, not like the pot out of the spring.
　　Accordion muffled sobs, not night after night
　　Let us dance in playful and moving rapidly up dust.
　　I have heard spoken of old age. That ominous prophecy.
　　Will not have the minor waves raised his hands to the sky.
　　They said that we no longer believe. No smile on the grass,
　　Pool no heartbeat, no forest gods.
　　Separate the jungle! Crazy that day.
　　This is the world's noon. Where are your eyes looking at?
　　You see, thinking of high waves rolled up the white foam,
　　That woodpecker, rain clouds and pine cones, pine needles are heat and.
　　Here, the city tram tracks come to an end.
　　Guard in front of a pine tree, you should not go a step further.
　　Sunday is more distant. Mouth, a few branches
　　Woods Road in Viiv, games come and go in the grass.
　　Spirit of Advent, Garden Day, sway the midday sky,
　　Grove asked us to believe: the world always is the case.
　　The reason the forest meditation before, had declared the wilderness,
　　Fabric of our body, the rain had enchant.
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Thunderstorm, the eternal moment
　　Out of that station, the summer
　　Waved away. It took off his hat,
　　Dazzling night captured one hundred photographs,
　　A memory for the thunder.
　　Lilac shade.
　　At this point, taken to the full of thunder
　　Electro-optic, aside from the fields to go
　　Yuyu King House for the lighting.
　　When the waves grin
　　Rolling on the roof,
　　Heavy rain, like charcoal lines drawn
　　Grand sprinkling all the fence.
　　Then an awareness of road space:
　　Even the darkest corners of the reasonable
　　Also shone brightly lit,
　　There, now is as bright as day.
　　1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Muqikabu
　　Wine lovers. The horizon is full of
　　An smoke, as thoughts.
　　Windmill _set_ off by a fishing village,
　　Several boats, a few pieces of Liangshai the nets.
　　This small fishing village windmill lethargy
　　Like a quiet port.
　　But it is filled with the smell of smoldering corruption,
　　Full of anxiety and sadness.
　　A little time in the past, like a stone,
　　Qingshenjianfei Skip shallow,
　　Not sunk, but has been floating,
　　With an smoke, as thought.
　　There is still time before this happens,
　　But it is immersed in cold years,
　　Until it sank, sunk
　　The storm comes in the turbulent agitation.
　　1917
　　Mark Rudman turn translated from English translation.
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Confusion of the party
　　Confusion of the party, confusion in the taxi home.
　　Almost can not move his legs stiff.
　　And your cheeks for Hatefury and Zhang Hong,
　　When you look closely stick to the wall.
　　Your silence has played a hostile opposite effect:
　　It inspired my desire.
　　Now that your lips locked in silence
　　Why not also to lock the door.
　　Oh no, no, not so locked the door,
　　When a trace of refuse still hanging in your heart.
　　As long as you are still, as long as there is one person you
　　Life is enough to become clear.
　　If I had known this, I would
　　Draw a beam overhead,
　　Or with my eyes locked
　　Your eyes because of sadness and Zhang Hong.
　　I will let the whole world knows,
　　To be able to see the end of the road
　　This is locked with a spot on the sun,
　　And this spring Meiqi imprisoned.
　　Do not let my soul because of fraud
　　Plunged into mysteries: either kill it or
　　It will be like the misty, infiltration
　　A bunch of white bran.
　　If a sultry afternoon,
　　The cottages where orange ran out a few rats,
　　Please tell me it is love
　　Blinded us false witness.
　　1917
　　Mark Rudman turn translated from English translation.
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Once thought
　　Each other's soul, once thought to separate
　　However, these two names Muqikabo and Zha Kesa
　　Like the violin Qi Su
　　Shock the sad strings.
　　I love the names as I love you,
　　As you are them.
　　There is no hope, I love you;
　　And because sick of love.
　　Stars like the dark night of care,
　　Ripped the gauze as asthma,
　　When you bare shoulders,
　　Even the stairs are shudder.
　　Who is hesitant whisper?
　　I? No, definitely you.
　　They fly from your lips,
　　Rapid gasification of the droplet as spirits.
　　An idea to show calm.
　　It is impeccable, like a sigh.
　　It is the same as capes broke into the night,
　　Lit by moonlight from three sides.
　　1917
　　Mark Rudman turn translated from English translation.
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　February
　　February. Ink enough to cry,
　　Sadness of writing a big place in February
　　Until the rolling of the mud,
　　Ignite the black spring.
　　With sixty kopeks, buggy hire vehicles,
　　Through respectful, through the voice of the wheel,
　　Rushed to the rainstorm that the noise
　　Overshadowed the place ink and tears.
　　There, like pears burnt as
　　Thousands of rooks
　　Puddles fall from the tree,
　　Dry eyes the sorrow sunk.
　　Puddles, the snow melted at the reddish black,
　　Voice search of the wind is,
　　The more casual, more real.
　　Compiled by crying with poetry.
　　(Xun Hongjun translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Just like stove in the bronze gray
　　Just like stove in the bronze ash,
　　Sleepy garden strewn beetles.
　　The world has been in full bloom
　　With me and my candle hanging in a line.
　　Never heard of like walking into the faith,
　　I went into the night,
　　Old fat gray poplar,
　　Cover the boundaries of the moon.
　　Here, the pond was found as the secret
　　Here, the same tree as the waves whisper
　　Here, like a wooden garden hanging in the air,
　　And care in their own garden in front of the sky again.
　　(Xun Hongjun translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Dream
　　I dream of the fall in the half dark glass,
　　You and your friends are in the ridiculous pile of glass,
　　A heart to your hand fall,
　　Eagle wounded as fighting fell from the sky.
　　But time in a hurry, in aging, passage of time,
　　Glow rose from the garden,
　　Silver satin bordered to the window frame,
　　Red glass with blood and tears of September.
　　But time in a hurry, in passing. Silk brocade chair
　　Taken as the cracking of ice, melting.
　　You speak loudly, suddenly make a uh, not words,
　　The echo of a dream, like bell, silent.
　　I gradually wake up. As dark as the autumn dawn,
　　Morrowind ran towards the distance with birch,
　　Birch wind Kuangpao pull in a row in the sky,
　　Like the wind to catch up with a car of wheat straw.
　　(Force Gang translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Swift
　　When the Swift evening
　　Can not suppress a joyous heart.
　　Joyous chest out loud,
　　Echoed in the air everywhere.
　　Swift indulge in the sky, flying,
　　That thousands of songs and turns back to any flying.
　　Ah, Swift which, how proud,
　　You see, even the earth must avoid!
　　Billowing clouds spread to,
　　Like rolling with an Baiquan pot,
　　You see. From the valley to the horizon,
　　Earth has not found a resting site.
　　(Force Gang translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Life - my sister
　　Life - my sister, just today
　　It is still like spring rain, sprinkle over the world,
　　However, the people decorated Jin Peiyu proud to complain,
　　And as The Catcher in the quiet way the snake bite.
　　Elderly people complaining have reasons.
　　Your reasoning is very, very funny;
　　What to say when thunderstorms are purple eyes and lawn.
　　There was a damp and the sky Wold atmosphere.
　　Said before in May and lived Kamyshin way
　　You read on the train train schedules,
　　That timetable still magnificent than the Bible,
　　Although seen very scratchy.
　　Exposure to the sun has just said
　　Embankment on the crowded farmer,
　　I heard that this is not a tall station,
　　Sun_set_ on my deep sympathy.
　　Rang three times before, getting to go further and further away ringtone
　　I apologized repeatedly: I am sorry, not the station.
　　Gradually the night blackened windows to drilling,
　　Steppe toward the sky, leaving the plant level.
　　Some winked. Slept very soundly,
　　At the moment, as if the dream of life,
　　Like a heart beat the train platform
　　The door to a fan thrown into grassland.
　　(Force Gang translation)
　　Version II
　　Life, my sister
　　Life, my sisters, today in the flood season.
　　She is like a spring rain and bumped into people,
　　Those who are not only elegantly dressed complain
　　Also like The Catcher in the snake, politely shook Nobuko.
　　Aging and their own people the truth,
　　And the reason you are obviously very naive:
　　You said a thunderstorm, eyes and lawn are purple,
　　Moist air from the horizon to bring the breath of mignonette.
　　That was in May, when you apply for extension in Cameron
　　The boxes read train schedules,
　　Holy book will find it even more than grand,
　　Although you might also hastily turned over.
　　Later in the evening, a group of women
　　Took to the platform. After the burst of excitement,
　　I came to realize that it was not to the station,
　　Xi Chen sun take over, to comfort me.
　　Then rang three times. Away ringtone
　　A cry of lingering apology: Unfortunately, not the station.
　　Night burn out through the curtains in Anan,
　　The wilderness extension ladder to a star like lying.
　　It is only in the blink of an eye blink, the other is sleep soundly,
　　Like my dear dream and the veil.
　　Heart in order to get off every little slap on the bursts,
　　Thrown into the wilderness has long been Paisui door.
　　Summer 1917
　　(A nine translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Thunderstorm moment forever
　　So say good-bye summer.
　　Being in the middle, take off the cap,
　　Shoot one hundred stunning photographs,
　　Recorded the night of thunder rumbling.
　　Lilac flower spikes can be nipped.
　　At this time, Ray, holding off a full
　　Lightning - Lightning from the fields to pick
　　The Authority to do a good light.
　　Storm broke out, piggy banks fence,
　　Void draw lines like charcoal;
　　Qiongxiong wave bliss
　　Overflow in the building's roof.
　　At the moment, "consciousness collapse" in a wink
　　Even those corners of the rational -
　　Those who understand the place as day
　　The lighting is also facing a rude awakening.
　　(White fly translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Person in the room will not come again
　　Person in the room will not come again,
　　Only dark. A winter
　　Melt into the half-open ajar
　　Curtains of the gap.
　　Only the white goose feather wet snow
　　Moving rapidly flash. Flying.
　　Only the roof, snow, in addition to
　　Snow and the roof - a nothing.
　　Frost painting is full of drawings,
　　Depression is gone Love
　　And other winter scenes
　　Stir stir in my heart to go
　　Is no forgiveness of sins that
　　Still hurt my heart,
　　Strange lack of firewood
　　Afflicts cross the window lattice.
　　However, the heavy curtain
　　Suddenly swept a thrill.
　　You will use the measured pace of silence
　　As the future, into the house.
　　You will appear at the door,
　　Dressed in elegant white,
　　Like for you to weave a cloth of
　　Is it filled the flying catkins.
　　(Wu Di translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Pine
　　We proceed to lay on the grass pillow,
　　Head looking up the sky thousands of miles,
　　Swimming bath in the wild wind Xianhua,
　　Among the daisies and lilies of forests.
　　Pines out a Youjing,
　　Lush grass, it is difficult to pass.
　　Us exchange a look,
　　Posture and location changes again.
　　We suddenly become immortal,
　　Into the ranks of pine trees.
　　So from disease, plague,
　　Out of death free.
　　Like oil, a rich ruby blue
　　With a deliberate monotone,
　　Shiny to fall to the earth,
　　Leave our mark on the sleeve.
　　We share the pine forests of the rest,
　　And listened to the sound beetles crawling chaos.
　　Breathing a mixture of lemon and incense
　　Hypnotic aroma of pine forest.
　　We are a long, long
　　Put his arm under his head to sleep,
　　How soft things around,
　　In front of all the vast expanse,
　　I always have the illusion:
　　There is a tree wonders of the sea.
　　Where the waves higher than the pine,
　　On the smooth stone from diving under the
　　Waves stirred the deep sea,
　　Throw a lot of rainfall a camel shrimp.
　　Dusk, sun_set_ after another
　　Spreading ballast on top of the cork after the tug,
　　Flickering like cod liver oil,
　　Also like the amber light dimly pan.
　　As night fell, and the moon
　　Gradually all traces of the buried
　　Buried in the foam of the operation of God among
　　Buried in the sea Yaofa above.
　　Sound waves can lift more higher
　　How busy floating music hall,
　　Audience gathered in the column next to
　　Looked at from a distance can not identify the poster.
　　(Wu Di translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Hamlet
　　Loud voices have been quiet.
　　I stepped onto the stage, leaning on the door,
　　By a distant echo
　　Listen to this life events.
　　One thousand opera binoculars
　　The dark with a night targeting me.
　　My Father, ah, if feasible,
　　Let this bitter cup around me.
　　I love you willful intent,
　　I agreed to play this role.
　　But now is another play staged,
　　This time I ask you my exemption.
　　But the screening has long had arrangements
　　There is no final blocking the arrival.
　　I was alone and hypocrisy flooded everything.
　　Live alive, how can walk over the field.
　　(White fly translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Winter
　　The earth a vast expanse of whiteness,
　　Immense.
　　Burning candles on the table,
　　Candle burning.
　　As the summer mosquito,
　　Groups of flying light
　　Today's snow outside,
　　Waves toward the window.
　　Snow at the window
　　Painted circles and levers.
　　Burning candles on the table,
　　Candle burning.
　　Roof was candlelight,
　　Cast a shadow on the ceiling:
　　Have cross arms and legs,
　　Also the fate of the intersection.
　　Two shoes pop twice
　　Fell on the floor.
　　Pu Susu few drops Zhu Lei
　　Drip on clothes.
　　Everything is sinking into the snow, the sea,
　　Milky, gray.
　　Burning candles on the table,
　　Candle burning.
　　Gust of wind rushed at the candle
　　A heart waves,
　　Like an angel,
　　Open two wings.
　　February was full of a white,
　　The night is often the case.
　　Burning candles on the table,
　　Candle burning.
　　(Force Gang translation)
　　-------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
　　Yu Ji
　　Great Lakes as wide - only plates.
　　The other side of the lake clouds gathered,
　　The piles of white cloud,
　　Turned out to be serious mountain glaciers.
　　According to the brightness of the turn of the sun,
　　The woods are the color changes.
　　Now they burn the child. Suddenly and cast
　　Shadow falling black smoke and dust.
　　When the Yin Yu started falling towards the end of the day,
　　Was exposed in a blue cloud,
　　Asked how the sky in the cloud gap joy
　　What a joyous child heart grass field!
　　In addition to much wind your cloud, calm down,
　　Throw the earth toward the sun, the glory.
　　Dicui leafless green crystal,
　　Like painting on tinted glass painting.
　　Like a church window murals,
　　Saints, monk and king
　　Flash wearing the crown of insomnia,
　　View from the inside out toward the eternal.
　　As if the vast land
　　The church's interior,
　　Sometimes through the window, escape from hearing
　　Curl choral hymn reverberation.
　　Nature, the world, deep in the universe,
　　I protect you long-term benefit,
　　You full of soul of Britain,
　　Tears of happiness rolling out.
　　(Wu Di translation)