Reading paves the way for the future Lu De'an, born in 1960, is a native of Fujian, a painter, the author of "North of the South" and "Stubborn Stone", and now lives in the United States and Fujian. In 2020, he won the first "Taetea Literature Biennial Award". The Night and the Woman of Wo Horn
Cape Wo, is the name of a fishing village.
Its topography resembles a fisherman's footboard.
A fan is immersed in water.
When the sea blows a black shirt adorned with nebulae.
Wo Horn, this little night has landed.
People go to bed early and let the salt spread outside the windows.
A few fishing fires on the nearby sea from the evening.
It marks that there is a net on the bottom of the sea, and it has been waiting for a thousand years.
And in the vast night, the children cried for a long time.
It makes it seem as if there are no adults taking care of it.
People are sleeping, and children are no longer crying.
Wo Horn, this little night is no longer crying.
Everything is a smile in happiness.
This is the moment of the most beautiful dream, Wo Horn.
No more voices gently pushed the man next to him and said. It's time to go to sea".
Father and me
Father and meWe walked side by side.
The autumn rain has taken a break. And a while before the rain.
It's like a lapse of time.
We walk in the rain and rain.
intervals. Shoulders are clearly pressed together.
But there was not a word to say.
We just came out of the house.
So there is not a word to say.
This is the result of living together for a long time.
The sound of dripping water is like breaking off a thin branch.
Like a plum blossom in winter.
My father's hair was all white.
But this is about a kind of soul.
It will make people awe-inspiring.
It's still a familiar street.
Familiar people should raise their hands in greeting.
My father and I are both indescribably gracious.
Walking peacefully.
January
Occasionally visible from the low sky.
The birds are trying to fly high, and their wings are getting smaller and smaller.
But by the way, that's where it is.
Slap it up and down, and it's there.
Swim higher and silently confirm you.
What I thought was a cloud was not a cloud.
but a field of light; How high the sky is.
There is no point - this - it won't.
Try to figure it out as much as you do, but if.
That laid-back posture suddenly became grim and calm.
That black point will give you a premonition in front of the window.
So I will leave an impression in my heart:
The birds have flown over the sky, and sooner or later.
Gotta get out of here. ”
Maybe it's a chorus
In the room, the color of the curtains can change everything. It's like daytime.
The shadow of a tree in the light, and all I hear in my ears is:
If you love me, have the courage to bring me into such a room;
The only change was the curtain, in the room, it was the solace of my soul;
The same goes for the tree, which makes the birds, in the shade, sing more hotter:
If you love me, have the courage to bring me into such a room;
Many years have passed, how many rooms have been changed, the curtains are still the same, only thinner, and the trees are no longer there, but in the wind, a voice is sometimes far and near:
Bring me into a room like this, and if you love me, have courage.
Snow in New York tonight
Snow in New York tonight – so what.
The darkness in our eyes will come first.
Not in Manhattan and Ross Island.
Not anywhere else.
The whole hurried day has not yet passed.
But we're ready to put down our work.
At least start waiting and feel.
Tonight will be the darkest night of the year.
We saw birds flying across the sky.
Presumably they are also aware of the changes in the weather.
In a panic, look for a landing.
It's like the darkness in our eyes.
Where is it going to be, everybody is talking.
Snow in New York tonightThis has not been confirmed.
But one thing: tomorrow we will not be covered with snow.
It is to be completely enveloped in the darkness of oneself.
Manhattan
If in Manhattan at night.
and Roosevelt Island.
A giant seabird.
It was gliding slowly, silently.
No interest; If this is one.
On windy and snowy nights, I didn't know about this lost seabird.
Is it impulsive.
These are two translucent cities.
In the middle is a shrinking sea.
At night, if the birds.
Just trying to get used to it.
Survive in the crevices of light.
Or with the help of light and snow.
Go after the fish in the dark.
Well, let's hope it gets its way.
If I was also amazed to find that this bird.
The armpits under the wings are white.
I found my loneliness.
Between Manhattan and Roosevelt.
Poetry writing
I left the table and went to put it.
The windows of that wall were pushed open.
Insects chirp and stars shine.
The night fell silently.
In this concave valley.
Darkness is trapped and aggrieved.
Thinking of this, I said to myself:
I'm also stuck in this."
I'm back to that poem.
Reach for the candle stamen.
At that moment, a moth pounced.
Falling on manuscript paper.
The body rests in ups and downs.
Bright eyes go crazy.
And when it finally adapts to the light.
And faith was restored.
Burned himself. The other day.
The other one is thicker and larger.
Bug streaks on the body.
Covered with angelic wings.
Again, it's all instantaneous.
I have seen it with my own eyes.
Their devotion intensified the flames.
And the center of the light is also concave.
How many years, in different lights.
I write about insignificant things.
Also in order to free yourself when.
By the way, the darkness will be groaned.
Lawn
Maybe my lawn also includes meanderingly.
Stretching out to the north of the barren land.
A ready-made trail in the middle.
There is a pond at the bottom, 30 square meters square.
Looming, all inside the fence.
And it's almost out of sight.
And I'm full of ambition, the same boundless:
You can stroll around here, from morning till night. ”
I saw the comic side of life.
It looks at the sky for a while, and a typhoon for a while.
Scrape people's hearts; I even liked the pond.
Rubble left behind after the flood.
But these are things that are in the dark.
It's better like being in this barren nature.
There is a father who is still amiable.
And I must listen to such a dead man:
Things are every day" - the voice.
It's still like him thirty years ago, the difference is.
That's when he pulled a handful of bills out of his trouser pocket.
Viciously slammed on the table, directing me.
Either steal and rob, or at least learn.
How to start a family. I didn't learn anything.
I just look at my age. Now me.
I suddenly felt that it was in his ordinary life.
The wisest moment - never yelled loudly since.
There was a long blank space after that.
It seems that people don't have time to understand.
Therefore, there is no need to answer.
Today, on that ready-made trail.
While stepping on similar fallen leaves.
But my heart is full of love:
My lawn may also include blue skies.