流氓都湿了

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-17 16:45:28

  奥菲利娅

  阿尔蒂尔·兰波

  1 　　在繁星沉睡的宁静而黝黑的的水面上 　　白色的奥菲利娅漂浮着象一朵大百合花， 　　躺在她修长的纱巾里极缓地漂游…… 　　－－远远林中传来猎人的号角。 　　已有一千多年了，忧郁的奥菲利娅 　　如白色幽灵淌过这黑色长河； 　　已有一千多年，她温柔的疯狂 　　在晚风中低吟她的情歌。 　　微风吻着她的乳房，把她的长纱巾 　　散成花冠，水波软软地把它晃动； 　　轻颤的柳条在她肩头垂泣， 　　芦苇倾泻在她梦幻般的宽阔天庭上。 　　折断的柳条围绕她长吁短叹； 　　她有惊醒昏睡的桤木上的鸟巢， 　　里面逸出一阵翅膀的轻颤： 　　－－金子般的星辰落下一支神秘的歌。 　　2 　　苍白的奥菲利娅呵，雪一般美！ 　　是啊，孩子，你葬身在卷动的河水中 　　－－是因为从挪威高峰上降临的长风 　　曾对你低声说起严酷的自由； 　　是因为一阵风卷曲了你的长发， 　　给你梦幻的灵魂送来奇异的声音； 　　是因为在树的呻吟，夜的叹息中 　　你的心听见大自然在歌唱； 　　是因为疯狂的海滔声，象巨大的喘息， 　　撕碎了你过分缠绵温柔的孩儿般的心胸； 　　是因为一个四月的早晨，一个苍白的美骑士 　　一个可怜的疯子，默默坐在你的膝边！ 　　天堂！爱情！自由！多美的梦，可怜的疯女郎！ 　　你溶化于它，如同雪溶化于火， 　　你伟大的视觉哽住了你的话语， 　　可怕的无限惊呆了你的蓝色眼睛！ 　　3 　　诗人说，在夜晚的星光中 　　你来寻找你摘下的花儿吧， 　　还说他看见白色的奥菲利娅 　　躺在她的长纱巾中漂浮，象一朵大百合花。 　　飞白 译

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-17 16:47:52

  打算再贴点俺心仪的顾城，伊沙，艾略特，叶芝，辛波丝卡。大家有性趣不？

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-21 10:35:14

  说是寂寞的秋的清愁， 　　说是辽远的海的相思。 　　假如有人问我的烦忧， 　　我不敢说出你的名字。 　　 　　我不敢说出你的名字， 　　假如有人问我的烦忧： 　　说是辽远的海的相思， 　　说是寂寞的秋的清愁。 　　 　　——戴望舒《烦忧》

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  麦兜 2009-04-21 12:46:40

  有性趣 继续

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-29 15:58:35

  《新古典主义崇拜》--摩罗

  在青萝山以东 　　　　　　　　夜逝河以北 　　　　　　　　我的一个朋友常年在那里打鱼 　　　　　　　　 　　　　　　　　每年四月 　　　　　　　　当南风吹过两岸的树林 　　　　　　　　我的朋友便溯河而上 　　　　　　　　船至风渡 　　　　　　　　他便弃舟登岸 　　　　　　　　 　　　　　　　　我的朋友 　　　　　　　　大袖飘飘， 片刻在远方隐没

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-29 16:00:28

  《当你年老时》--叶芝

  傅浩译

  当你年老，鬓斑，睡意昏沉， 在炉旁打盹时，取下这本书， 慢慢诵读，梦忆从前你双眸 神色柔和，眼波中倒影深深；

  多少人爱你风韵妩媚的时光， 爱你的美丽出自假意或真情， 但唯有一人爱你灵魂的至诚， 爱你渐衰的脸上愁苦的风霜；

  弯下身子，在炽红的壁炉边， 忧伤地低诉，爱神如何逃走， 在头顶上的群山巅漫步闲游， 把他的面孔隐没在繁星中间。

  相较于袁可嘉1893年译本，我更喜欢这个

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-04-29 16:02:16

  W.S.Landor于1849年写在74岁生日时所作《生与死》

  I strove with none, for none was worth my strife: Nature I loved, and next to nature Art: I warm'd both hands before the fire of Life It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

  我不与人争， 胜负均不值。 我爱大自然， 艺术在其次。 且以生命之火， 烘我的手。 它一熄，我转身就走。

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-07-02 12:41:11

  The Waste Land--by T.S. Eliot Part 1 - Burial of the Dead Part 2 - A Game of Chess Part 3 - The Fire Sermon Part 4 - Death by Water Part 5 - What the Thunder Said

  ---

  I. Burial of the Dead

  April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

  What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You canot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handfull of dust.

  Frish weht der Wind Der Heimat zu Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du?

  'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' --Yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden, Your arms full and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed'und leer das Meer.

  Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations. Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water. I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring. Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days.

  Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many. Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: 'Stetson! 'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae 'That corpse you planted last year in your garden, 'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year? 'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed? 'O keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men, 'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 'You! hypocrite lecteur!--mon semblable,--mon frere!'

  ---

  II. A Game of Chess

  The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble, where the glass Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines From which a golden Cupidon peeped out (Another hid his eyes behind his wing) Doubled the flames of seven-branched candleabra Reflecting light upon the table as The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it, From satin cases poured in rich profusion. In vials of ivory and coloured glass Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfume Unguent, powdered, or liquid--troubled, vondused And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air That freshened from the window, these ascended In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling. Huge sea-wood fed with copper Burned green and orange, framed by the colored stone In which sad light a carved dolphin swam Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale Filled all the desert with inviolable voice And still she cried, and still the world pursues, 'Jug Jug' to dirty ears. And other withered stumps of time Were told upon the walls; staring forms Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. Footstpes shuffled on the stair. Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair Spread out in fiery points Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

  'My nerves are bad t-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

  I think we are in rat's alley Where the dead men lost their bones.

  'What is that noise?' 　　　　　　　　　The wind under the door. 'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' 　　　　　　　　Nothing again nothing. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　'Do 'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'Nothing?' 　　I remember Those pearls that were his eyes. 'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?' 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　But O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag-- It's so elegant So intelligent 'What shall I do now? What shall I do?' 'I shall rush out as I am, walk the street 'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow? 'What shall we ever do?' 　　　　　　　　　　　　The hot water at ten. And if it rains, a closed car at four. And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

  When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said-- I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart. He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there. You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you. And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert, He's been in the army for four years, he wants a good time And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said. Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said. Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said. Others can pick and choose if you can't. But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. (And her thirty-one.) I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face, It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said. (She had five already and nearly died of young George.) The chemist said it would be all right, but I've never been the same. You are a proper fool, I said. Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said, What you get married for if you don't want children? HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it-- HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME Goodnight Bill. Goodnight Lou. Goodnight May. Goodnight. Ta ta. Goodnight. Goodnight. Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

  ---

  III. The Fire Sermon

  The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of City directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept... Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The ratttle of bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

  A rat crept softly through vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse Musing upon the king my brother's wreck And the king my father's death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year. But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

  Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc'd Tereu

  Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

  At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food; in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest-- I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which are still unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at one; Exploring hands rencounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked amongh the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit...

  She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed love; Her brain allows one-half formed thought to pass: 'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.' When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramaphone.

  'This music crept by me upon the waters' And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, The pleasant whining of a mandolin And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

  The river sweats Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Greenwich reach Past the Isle of Dogs. 　　　　　　　Weialala leia 　　　　　　　Wallala leialala

  Elizabeth and Leicester Beating oars The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers 　　　　　　　Weialala leia 　　　　　　　Wallala leialala

  'Trams and dusty trees Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'

  'My feet are Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the event He wept. He promisd "a new start." I made no comment. What should I resent?'

  'On Margate Sands. I can connect Nothing with nothing. The broken fingernails of dirty hands. My people humble people who expect Nothing.' 　　　　　　　la la

  To Carthage then I came

  Burning burning burning burning O Lord Thou pluckest me out O Lord Thou pluckest

  burning

  ---

  IV. Death by Water

  Phelbas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss. 　　　　　　　　　　　A current under sea Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering whirpool. 　　　　　　　　　Gentile or Jew O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

  ---

  V. What the Thunder Said

  After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The shouting and the crying Prison and palace and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience

  Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road The road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit There is not even slience in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses 　　　　　　　　　　　　If there were water

  And no rock If there were rock And also water And water A spring A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water

  Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman --But who is that on the other side of you?

  What is that sound high in the air Murmur of maternal lamentation Why are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth Ringed by the flat horizon only What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and burst in the violet air Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London Unreal

  A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upsdie down in air were towers Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells

  In this decayed hole among the mountains In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel There is an empty chapel, on the wind's home. It has no windows, and the door swings, Dry bones can harm no one. Only a cock stood on the rooftree Co co rico co co rico In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust Bringing rain Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves Waited for rain, while the black clouds Gathered far distant, over Himavant. The jungle crouched, humped in silence. Then spoke the thunder DA Datta: what have we give? My friend, blood shaking my heart The awful daring of a moment's surrender Which an age of prudence can never retract By this, and this only, we have existed Which is not to be found in our obituaries Or in memories draped by the beneficient spider Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor In our empty rooms DA Dayadhvam: I have heard the key Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus DA Damyata: The boat responded Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar The sea was calm, your heart would have responded Gaily, when invited, beating obedient To controlling hands I sat upon the shore Fishing, with arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order? London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam uti chelidon--O swallow swallow Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe. Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih shantih shantih

  １９２１

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  Rita (窝边有草不远游) 2009-07-02 22:13:37

  从来，我就，看不懂，湿

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  烂牛奶 (宁停三分，不抢一秒。) 瞎忙 2009-07-02 23:08:12

  噢，我都不记得还有这么一贴，等等我也找个人的贴过来。

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  凌未风 (寂寞寥落如深海) 2009-07-03 18:39:06

  好湿。。。

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  烂牛奶 (宁停三分，不抢一秒。) 瞎忙 2009-07-03 19:28:21

  郁闷，不符合社区指导原则……过几天应该可以发出来，自觉是现在不太容易见到的诗词。

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-07-23 12:08:54

  元音

  阿尔蒂尔·兰波

  A黑、E白、I红、U绿、O蓝：元音们， 　　有一天我要泄露你们隐秘的起源： 　　A，苍蝇身上的毛茸茸的黑背心， 　　围着恶臭嗡嗡旋转，阴暗的海湾；

  E，雾气和帐幕的纯真，冰川的傲峰， 　　白的帝王，繁星似的小白花在微颤； 　　I，殷红的吐出的血，美丽的朱唇边 　　在怒火中或忏悔的醉态中的笑容；

  U，碧海的周期和神秘的振幅， 　　布满牲畜的牧场的和平，那炼金术 　　刻在勤奋的额上皱纹中的和平；

  O，至上的号角，充满奇异刺耳的音波， 　　天体和天使们穿越其间的静默： 　　噢，奥美加，她明亮的紫色的眼睛！

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  来叔 (无谓问我一生的事) 组长 楼主 2009-12-30 15:24:30

  1、无声的随从

  查尔斯·西米克 韦白 译

  我们从未正式介绍过。 我根本不知道他们之中谁是真正的我呢？ 它像一群审慎的随从。 每一个都有大致相同的身高。 身穿不同的服饰，我们搭乘 地铁，从报纸的上方偷偷地窥视着彼此。

  在危险的时刻，他们悄悄 溜走。 他们都去了哪儿？ 一天晚上，我问劫匪 当他用一把刀子抵住我的喉咙时， 可他也被吓住， 二话没说，就把我放了 掠过水坑 犹如被他自身的影子所追赶。

  那是惊惶，而谈不上犯罪。 像我一样慌张，我 把手伸向那把 我塞在胸前衣袋里的小黑梳 让梳子一下梳过头发， 并至少可以完全肯定 我们之中的一个还在那儿。

  2、你妈贵姓

  /沈浩波

  好吧 就按你的方式 坐而论道 咱们对对偈语

  你说： 仇恨乃万恶之源 你心怀仇恨 终缺一颗普世慈悲心 难成正果

  我对： 我纵心藏大恶 胸中仍有大爱 你虽慈悲是真 却不知爱为何物

  你说的我懂 我说的你懂吗

  你说： 万物本来是虚 何必过于用心 我已心中大空 乃是寂灭空灵

  我对： 虚则无神 空则无魂 你这无神无魂之人 不过是具腐朽皮囊

  你说的我懂 我说的你懂吗

  你说：咄，色即是空！ 我对：嗨，你妈贵姓？

  你说：你真是执迷不悟啊！ 我对：真是白瞎了您这个人哪！

  3、盗版英雄

  /享耳

  秦始皇

  普天之下 黎民 皆说寡人暴君 苛政 苦苦征战十数载 只求一统天下 试问天下一日不统 苍天之下何以民安 若非苛政何以养兵 若无精兵何以统天下 只求天足吾寿 待天下一统 苍天之下 芸芸 皆如兄弟 政 死又何惧兮 怎奈 苍狗之下众人皆愚昧 竟无一人晰吾心

  长空

  无名啊 我甘愿受你一刺 为了天下的黎民百姓得以安宁 哪怕性命不保又有什么大不了的呢 你刺吧 这样 你便距秦政又 近一步了

  无名

  寒雨筑音破长空 易水萧萧刺飞雪 红颜逝兮比残剑

  忍痛血溅友兮 闭众人耳目兮 唯为刺秦

  刺秦乃为乡亲父老兄弟 免糟站乱之央

  可是 当我离秦政只十步之遥时 才发现 我已铸成大错 我怎能 一错再错 那么 就用我的血助君以严大纲吧

  飞雪与残剑

  你为什么不挡我的剑 你为什么不挡我的剑 你为什么不挡我的剑 你为什么不挡我的剑啊？！

  这样你就知道了 我的心里不止只有天下 我的心里还有 你啊

  英雄

  滚滚长江东逝水 浪花淘尽英雄 古今多少事 都付笑谈中

  英雄 回忆里才有英雄 一百单八 邓世昌 谭嗣同 董存瑞 黄继光 英雄 只能活在回忆里了吗 心底大声呐喊 不！

  以下是 童子 的。。嘿嘿，恩恩，原来是这样子地，。

  格调 把尖木棒探进 圆腹瓦壶 用力搅匀 花椒面胡椒面辣椒面还有 白骨灰

  一个生平嗜辣的人 得以安息

  往生咒

  南无阿弥多婆夜多他伽多夜，跟着我 走下去，走过幽冥的水底 孤魂月光一样薄，水生凉

  衣襟湿啊水生凉 多地夜他，你来不及更换 穿旧的白衫，一件又一件啊白衫 染青色，染绯色，染橘朱，染玄黄

  褪青绿啊染玄黄 天亮着：眼睛，草绿着：手指 皮肤蒙在铜鼓上，隔夜头发在长

  阿弥力都婆毗阿弥力都悉耽婆毗 阿弥力都毗伽兰帝阿弥力都毗伽兰多

  索性变最最小的小不点， 躲开坚硬的委屈 藏进最最细小的缝隙里 不被哭声喊回去

  伽弥腻伽伽那 那么拥挤的星球上 惊惶的你没有影子 跟我走，快离开 到永无畏惧的消失

  善良的魂啊无畏惧 休回望，跖多伽利娑婆诃 迷路的魂啊快放下心事，从头来 念往生 南无 阿弥 多婆 夜

  动态

  我不再需要你 你说继续 快乐失踪后 小树林留下阴影 我走后你说继续 激情依然准时来临 你一个人面对高潮 并不觉得难为情

  我发誓不再啜饮咖啡，你说 继续，化石们肉体丰满 蝴蝶从石榴裙飞出 一首歌扭断自己的脖子，并且 继续

  时光

  看着你我反复地想 一定要说些什么吗 一定要设想一个美好的结局 再设想一个 更现实的心灰的结局吗 一定要把你当作 和从前一样可爱吗

  你是不是已染上了 虚伪的恶习 你一再用眼光提示我 该说些什么了

  我心里很不快 你逼着我向你撒谎

  遗忘

  选择从此刻开始 遗忘 直到明天结束

  你做什么都可以 是我先错了，先错了 直到 明天结束

  有这闲暇，守住匆匆

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