Tung Wood and Timbre - Zhang Xiaoxue / 张晓雪
To break the silence, / tung wood gives itself to the pipa, the zither, / and the konghou—not for any ear's sake. // Through half a cycle of rebirth, notes glide / selflessly between the fingers— /
Número #3
Perhaps Caught by Surprise Next Moment - Yang Ke / 杨 克
A gust of wind, blows the dancing blossoms off the twigs / A skimming stone causes ripples, and suddenly sinks / Crystalised soul, the dew rests on the blades of grass / It swiftly falls quietly and peacefully / The bullets of coronavirus fly /
Soft day - Duan Qingqing / 缎轻轻
History won't keep my name / Being a writer, whatever I had expressed / Only would attach to a yellow leaf eventually, and shin with brown spots of / Old age, spinning in the wind, experiencing / Ebbinghaus forgetting curve / -- Trembling, remembering, forgetting /
Fiest Day of Autumn - Yang Xiuli / 杨绣丽
Autumn sits in the cup of the early chrysanthemum, / Prayers brim over the riverbanks. / Your kisses spill your like lucid flames, / Wrapping themselves around your glistening skin. /
Hometown - Liu Xiangdong / 刘向东
They say I'm already a poet— / a poet of the native soil, / earthy to the bone. Yet here I am, / spending the night in a VIP hotel close to home, / and still my hometown visits me in dreams. /
Remembering the Noble Spirit - Che Yangao / 车延高
The moon is always calm—whether or not it powders its face, / it still bears the freckles left by the Tang dynasty. // Newly composed folk songs do not sob, / yet the night-long sound of beating clothes for the long quest / still wrings the heart of one far from home. /
Who - He Xiangyang / 何向阳
Who comes down / from the temple / and gives me breath? / Who gives me breath / and quietly / watches me? / Who watches me / and silently places / a hand in mine? /