睡梦中我也在守望…
　　让我入梦，让我离开…
　　
　　冲着你快乐地微笑
　　我自身一无所有。我渴望你
　　不是为爱情，是为了梦。
　　
　　你安详的肉体扑灭了
　　我热切的凝望。
　　我的渴望悲痛交叠
　　我不愿把梦中的你的存在
　　安置在我的怀中。
　　
　　睡，睡，睡，
　　凝神于你的微笑…
　　我如此专注地梦着你
　　这梦如此心醉神迷
　　而且不带感情。

　　在下雨。只有寂静，因为雨除了
　　制造寂静的噪音再不造出别的噪音。
　　在下雨。天已睡去。这时灵魂已被
　　无知的动人的摸索夺去。
　　在下雨。我的本质（我就是它）被我取消。
　　
　　雨是如此的宁静，仿佛它融进了
　　（甚至不是诞生于云朵）大气，甚至
　　好像不是为了下雨，只是为了变成一阵低语，
　　在低语中，变得模糊。
　　在下雨。一切都不发光。
　　
　　没有风在翱翔。我也感觉不到
　　有天空。天在下雨，遥远，不确定，
　　就像确定的事物没准是个谎言，
　　
　　在下雨。什么都不能让我激动

　　用玫瑰为我加冕，
　　真的用玫瑰
　　为我加冕---
　　焚毁的玫瑰
　　戴在燃烧的额头
　　它也会迅速燃尽！
　　用玫瑰为我加冕
　　用那转瞬即朽的叶饰。
　　够了。
　　
　　庄严地，丰饶的乡村上空
　　
　　庄严地，丰饶的乡村上空掠过了
　　白云，徒然，流浪，
　　在一个黑色的瞬间，它从田野中
　　升起一阵凉风。
　　
　　缓慢的理念高高地飞在我的灵魂里，
　　涂黑了我的心灵，但我已经变成
　　----就像田野的自我对它自身做的那样---不完善的
　　生命的白昼。

　　对着星光灿烂的天空说话，
　　走过那些酒吧，走过他的伤心地
　　也许还做着和我一样的梦……
　　也许还，天哪，多么真实的言辞！
　　
　　那有着狭窄天花板的酒吧
　　把他和天空和陆地隔开了……
　　将人类的手举向酒吧，用非人类的声音
　　大喊大叫……

　　当虚空离开我们，此时
　　那哑默的太阳
　　是善。寂静的林中
　　大片无声的声音。
　　
　　威风笑够了。
　　下午是个正在忘掉的人。
　　暧昧敲打叶簇
　　树枝动摇。
　　
　　拥有希望意味深长
　　像一个故事歌一样被讲述。
　　当森林静静倒下
　　森林便开口发言。

　　死神在向我逼近，这不重要。
　　现在我知道它是虚幻，是虚构，是梦，
　　而在宇宙的命运之轮上
　　我并不是此时此刻我正揣摩的我。
　　
　　我知道比起这微不足道的尘世会有更多的世界
　　对我们来说它看上去垂垂待毙---
　　这乱石累累的不毛之地就在那儿，躺在
　　深渊般的生机勃勃的大海下边。
　　
　　我了解死神，它是万物，也是乌有，
　　因此，从死亡到死亡，真实的灵魂
　　不会堕入深井：在小径上蠕动，
　　在他的时辰，在我们的光阴里，上帝开口说话。

　　风很静
　　正轻轻越过荒废的田野。
　　它好像
　　是那种……青草由于对自身的惊恐
　　而颤栗，而不是由于风。
　　但这温和的，高处的云
　　在动，它仿佛
　　大地正飞快地旋转而它们，
　　因为了不起的高度，正慢慢经过，
　　在这宽广的寂静中
　　我可以忘记一切---
　　甚至我难以复活的生命
　　在我赞美的事物里也不会有它的小屋。
　　我的光阴，它错误的旅程将用这种方式
　　品尝真理和现实。

　　From "The Shepherd"
　　1.
　　I have never looked after the sheep,
　　But if I have been nursing them.
　　My soul is like a shepherd,
　　Familiar with the wind, to understand the sun,
　　Go hand in hand with the four seasons
　　To follow to listen.
　　All quiet deserted quiet of nature
　　Came to me to sit down.
　　But I like the _set_ting sun left a sad
　　Because we think it leaked,
　　When a cold distant land at the side of the valley,
　　You are already into the night
　　Like a butterfly through a window.
　　But my sadness is quiet
　　Because it is natural, right
　　Is bound to arise in the soul of the
　　When it is thinking of, it is the presence of
　　The hands are off the flowers, which one without looking.
　　In the midst of harsh tone in animal husbandry
　　Bend in the road where
　　My thoughts are satisfied,
　　But, I'm sorry I know they are satisfied,
　　Because, if you do not know this,
　　They will not only meet but also sad,
　　But they cheerful and satisfied.
　　Thinking is uncomfortable, like walking in the rain,
　　When the wind is rising, the rain seems to be harder and harder.
　　I desire no idea.
　　To be a poet is nothing in my ambition.
　　It is a way to let me be left alone.
　　And if sometimes I want, and
　　For the sake of imagination, desire to become a shepherd boy
　　(Or into a large flock
　　To hill and dale to run, spread,
　　At the same time into the lives of many kinds of happiness),
　　It is only because I felt my sun_set_ for description,
　　Or when a cloud passing over it in the light of hand,
　　And while still roaming through the open prairie.
　　Whenever I sit down to write poetry,
　　Or, along the road or just when I walk through the tunnel,
　　I write poetry on the brain's white paper,
　　I felt his hands seemed like a shepherd's hands twist
　　I saw the outline of
　　In the mountains, the
　　Listen to my flock, guard my ideal,
　　Or listen to my ideal, guard my flock,
　　Smiling like a trance do not understand
　　What is being made that the people who
　　Trying to pretend to understand.
　　I read to all those who might pay tribute to my people,
　　I have to take off their hat off the line,
　　When they saw me in my hallway
　　The only public car finally arrived in the mountains,
　　I salute them and wish them a bright and sunny,
　　Enjoy the rain, the time when they need rain.
　　Their house may
　　In an open window on the bottom
　　A lovely chair,
　　They may sit it on top, reading my poems.
　　And when they read my poems, may be thought of
　　I am a nature of things ---
　　For example, an old tree
　　In its shade in, or child,
　　They suddenly sat down, tired of the game,
　　Wiping the sweat on his forehead hot
　　That striped blouse with sleeves.
　　5.
　　Abundance of metaphysical thinking does not exist in totally do not want them.
　　Yu He is I think this world?
　　How can I understand my thinking in this world?
　　If I was sick I would pondering it.
　　How about the idea of ​​things I have?
　　I have about how cause and effect point of view?
　　About God and the soul and the world's creation
　　I have a kind of meditation?
　　I do not know. For me, thinking my eyes off of these is equal to
　　Do not think. I should draw the window
　　Curtains (but not curtains).
　　The mystery of things? How do I know what mystery?
　　The only mystery is where he may be thinking about personal mystery.
　　A man standing in the sun, close your eyes
　　Started to forget what the sun is
　　Think about the many hot things.
　　But he opened his eyes and saw the sun,
　　Now he can no longer think of anything,
　　Because the sun is far better than
　　All the philosophers of all the poet's thoughts.
　　The sun does not know what it is doing
　　So it will not fall astray, so it usually it bad.
　　Metaphysics? What is the metaphysical world to have these trees?
　　It is green with, crown and branches grow
　　In their hour in the tree to produce fruit, they are not used ---
　　Let meditation,
　　We do not know how to cognitive them.
　　But there is nothing better than their metaphysical
　　Do not know why they are alive
　　Do not know their ignorance?
　　'The inner structure of things' ...
　　'Internal universe, esoteric' ...
　　Are false, it means illusory.
　　People can come up with those who simply inconceivable.
　　It's like thinking rationally and the end of
　　When the morning come, with a first-line
　　Dawn over the edge of the trees
　　A blur of bright gold against the, to break up the darkness.
　　Things to think about the inner esoteric,
　　Is a waste of energy, like thinking about health
　　Or spring water into which a piece of glass.
　　Only the inner meaning of things
　　They do not have any intrinsic meaning.
　　I do not believe in God, because I never saw him.
　　If he wanted me to believe him,
　　Of course he should come chat with me
　　Should come through my hallway,
　　Said to me: I am here!
　　(Maybe that's the sound of someone's ear,
　　A little funny, he did not know what it means to look at things,
　　Do not understand that with the knowledge to teach the thing itself
　　People talk about things. )
　　But if God is the flowers and trees,
　　The mountains, the sun and moon,
　　Then I would believe him,
　　I believe that every moment to him,
　　All of my life is a prayer, a Mass,
　　A visible, heard of the communion ceremony.
　　But if God is the trees, the flowers,
　　The mountains, the moon and sun,
　　Why should I call him God?
　　I told him flowers, trees, mountains, sun and moon;
　　If, for I saw him, he put himself into
　　Sun, moon, flowers, trees and mountains,
　　If he is the embodiment of trees, mountains
　　Moon and sun, flowers borrow to me,
　　That he wanted me to know him
　　As awareness of trees and mountains and flowers and the moon and sun.
　　So I obey his
　　(On God I can know more than his own?)
　　I instinctively obey him,
　　As a person opened his eyes and saw
　　I told him the moon, sun, flowers, trees and mountains,
　　I love him but do not think of him,
　　I think through his gaze and listen attentively,
　　In the hour I was with him all the peers.
　　7.
　　From my village I look like from the earth
　　One can see the universe as many ... ...
　　So my village as large as any other planets
　　Because I was the scale of things I see
　　In the city, than life
　　Hide the horizon, our line of sight from the open sky,
　　Let us become poorer because our only as_set_ is observed.
　　A gust of wind, while a very light wind, blowing
　　There is no desire to know.
　　Two trees standing side by side is equal.
　　Because I lack all things become
　　I moved is because when the land slope, water began flowing,
　　We see things is the thing.
　　If you see and hear is really seen, heard?
　　When looking at the time really to see,
　　But to do this (poor to own our souls
　　Apprenticeship period learn to forget
　　The Independence Day flowers is a passion penitents,
　　So we call them stars and flowers.
　　Blowing bubbles
　　Like all things, like the eyes of friends,
　　Who can not even fly their children,
　　Like the breeze, it obviously touched a flower after and
　　It is more transparent to accommodate all things.
　　When things get they can get all of reality,
　　Attributed to things.
　　Not: they have color and shape
　　I gave things to the United States, to exchange them for giving me the enlightened.
　　Yes, even though I only live and survive together,
　　Into itself, in addition to what is not visible to see, how difficult it! 30.
　　My soul is pure, never thinking.
　　I do not know what natural things: I praise her.
　　This is my limit.
　　I watch the entire night is being occupied.
　　Outside, only silence, as if nothing exists.
　　Stifle all the presence earth and sky.
　　Hanging in the mouth smile,
　　It is a great night filled with strange perception
　　With its small ... ...
　　47.
　　A violent and sunny day,
　　Is the kind of finish you want you have a lot of work
　　On that day the day to do nothing,
　　I saw, like a forest road in front,
　　It may be a big mysterious thing,
　　I had a great talk about fake poet mystery.
　　I see no natural,
　　Nature does not exist,
　　Only mountains, canyons, desert the original,
　　Only trees, flowers, grass,
　　Only streams and rocks,
　　But all this is not a command of the whole,
　　As well as any real contact,
　　Perhaps this is the mystery of their mantra.
　　We _set_ off to look for is not found,
　　I let myself stay in the house, closed the window.
　　Oh my life is so may be:
　　Tender Is the Night, the crowd came,
　　Then, close the window, lighting,
　　In the outside, like a sleeping giant silence of God.