I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

 


hannah's web

              hannah's web

 

吹笛子的人

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This entry was posted on 1/31/2007 12:10 AM and is filed under Poems.



在上班路上
在汽车上
看开车人的风景

这个人在吃早餐
这个人在喝咖啡
这个人对着后镜
梳头,抹口红
这个人在打哈欠
我也想打哈欠

这个人在打电话
这个人在和边上的人说笑
这个人神情严肃
这个人也神情严肃

这是个白人
又一个白人
还是白人
这是黑人
西班牙人,墨西哥人,印度人
亚洲人,不,是中国人
白人,白人
金发女郎,啊,好一个美人

这个人竟然在刷牙
他肯定一爬起来就上了车
我想刷完牙他该刮胡子
只是我见不到他刮胡子

咦,这个人
这个人在吹笛子
黑色的笛子,他吹得很认真
我听不见他吹的是什么
但我想:今天有点意思
 
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