The Killing Books

一天中最美丽的季节

睡前,躲进书中

从我之为我的重担中逃脱

随着字的银河起伏

夏夜,诉说你深沉的皮肤

城市之光二楼,只有诗歌

诗歌沉默

如果世界只有痛苦,就把我融化

在书架间的光中

无意义的浪潮刷洗身体

留下一个个洞

那么,用意义袭击我

它们在这世上仅存的形式

是一本又一本致命的砖头

The most beautiful season of the day

Is the time before sleep. I hide into books,

Away from the burden of being,

Swaying with the galaxy of words.

A summer night

Is telling the depth of your skin.

Second floor, City Lights. Poetry only.

Poems are whispering silence.

If the world is pain, then melt me,

Melt me into the light between the shelves.

Waves of meaninglessness

Wash the body, leaving holes.

Then attack me with meaning—

Their only form in this world

Are those killing bricks.

2018.4.26-5.30

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