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Poem

Zhang Zhihao

Bel Canto

1.

Autumn night, wind rises, insects singing
and swirling. An outsider walks through all the national
boulevards and then his hometown trails,
carrying a Moon first, but now only his naive heart.
He's not lonely, but feels alone, empty.
In a city full of people, he’s never been one of them.
Even the street lights look like eyes peeking at his life.
Now, lovers are coming out of the western gate
of East Lake, ready to have midnight snacks
by the Liberation Avenue, stuffing their mouths
through the lips that've just kissed or been kissed.
Autumn wind is blowing, a naive heart insomnia.
A sleepless guy rambles and tumbles along,
rummaging through in the dark.

(excerpt of a long poem)

美声

美声

1.

 秋风乍起的夜里,草虫的呜咽回旋。
 一个外乡人把国道走穿,又迂徊于故乡小径。
 从前他怀抱明月远遁
 如今空剩一颗简单的心。
 他并不孤寂,只是倍感孤寂。
 在一座到处都是人的城市,他的问题在于
 不能成为他们的一部分,甚至连眼前的这些路灯
 怎么看都像是一只只窥视生活的眼睛。
 此时,恋爱的人正陆续走出东湖的西侧门。
 几张刚刚结过吻的嘴准备去解放路宵夜。
 秋风在吹,一颗简单的心在失眠。
 一个失眠的人在黑暗中翻箱倒柜。



(长诗节选)
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Bel Canto

1.

Autumn night, wind rises, insects singing
and swirling. An outsider walks through all the national
boulevards and then his hometown trails,
carrying a Moon first, but now only his naive heart.
He's not lonely, but feels alone, empty.
In a city full of people, he’s never been one of them.
Even the street lights look like eyes peeking at his life.
Now, lovers are coming out of the western gate
of East Lake, ready to have midnight snacks
by the Liberation Avenue, stuffing their mouths
through the lips that've just kissed or been kissed.
Autumn wind is blowing, a naive heart insomnia.
A sleepless guy rambles and tumbles along,
rummaging through in the dark.

(excerpt of a long poem)

Bel Canto

1.

Autumn night, wind rises, insects singing
and swirling. An outsider walks through all the national
boulevards and then his hometown trails,
carrying a Moon first, but now only his naive heart.
He's not lonely, but feels alone, empty.
In a city full of people, he’s never been one of them.
Even the street lights look like eyes peeking at his life.
Now, lovers are coming out of the western gate
of East Lake, ready to have midnight snacks
by the Liberation Avenue, stuffing their mouths
through the lips that've just kissed or been kissed.
Autumn wind is blowing, a naive heart insomnia.
A sleepless guy rambles and tumbles along,
rummaging through in the dark.

(excerpt of a long poem)
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