The drizzle is irrigating
The incenses that burn vigorously
A fit of sutras chanting
Has consecrated
Small accessories of yours
As if there were a hand
Out of the dusk
Gently caressing
The top of
Your head
Like an urgent document stamped with official seals
Being gradually transmitted along the hidden mountain paths
To every tree
Literally
Overnight
All over hills and dales are blazing red.
Inside everyone's body
A big pile of garbage is being accumulated
I clean mine up in my spare time
Often carrying my worn-out shadows
I stand by the brightly multicoloured bins
Stupefied for half a day
Not knowing into which bin to throw
Like a tattered garment
Hanging over the bin brim
He, burying himself in the bin
Which he has been rummaging for half a day
Comes upon a mooncake
Which he bites a fierce bite
I'm really worried
That this moldy stuff
Is saturated with human poisons
Having stayed up at night and got two eyes red
Autumn leaves are kraft envelopes rushed out
I spread a sheet of moonlight
On which to fully write my yearning
Then gently fold it in half
Tuck it in
And entrust a wisp of autumn wind
To take along
