Orange, Moon, Butterflies And More Poem by Jiang Haizhou

1

ORANGE

Freely, in fact, they sing only one song -

They float on the water of songs,
On the dropped water of songs. And

Are they poems to me? And,
Seemingly, they
Haven't searched out another floating color.

In both their hands holding an orange
On the surface;

They enjoy
Concealing themselves
From the edge
Of the water,
With the sun

They have things to say.



2

WHOSE MESSAGE IS THAT?

I nearly have nothing to fear
Except do a little for you
And for my own nights,
All is for a normal day.

What is the time we can go forth on true?
What is the time you and I can get back?

You have been there already;
You have been there already.



3

THE MOON

The most special quotations
Are always
In the sky,
Or it will be like ones of the visions -

Which are shining?

Every moment,
Mystical lights
Are coming.



4

Smalls are missing.




5

BUTTERFLIES

Butterflies were once
Looking for a beam of sunshine,
A falling season
And an existent swing of memories.

Butterflies are usually
Brought into a silent valley
Of emergence

By all patterns.

Butterflies' eyes are
A little like ours.



6

When a day starts in the wonderful sky,
There is the golden thinking in it.

We are so happy,
We are in a simple life.
We have the best way of doing things.
Oh, the sun is over all of us, and
Suddenly, we fear

We are in a beautiful loneliness.



7

Every one is like a river
In the summer: who could be feeling that
Three levels of the water of the river?

Oh, the first level is hot.
Because it is just facing the sun directly, and
The second level is warm, why?
Oh, because it is under the hot of the beautiful surface! But
How about the last level of the water
Of the riverbed?

Oh -
May the ones they are really loving
Know that.



8

If we could be really heart to heart, we would get younger;
If we could really understand each other, we would not fear death any more;
And if my hands be in yours, that would be a miracle;
Yes, that was.

Some of them are as easy as the sunshine’s getting to the dark;
But some are like the air that won’t be away.

What is the air? To me, it is real life...



9

What the most beautiful
Is like any memory
From the summer, and
From recollections
Of the land which we are living!

O, waiting for the next
There is also the beautiful thing,
My heart!
And come over.

“-Be in front of the singing of the
Cicadas over the small river.”
It has been telling the land itself that
Love is not easy.