J疲倦是容易的当黄昏降临,我和诗人回到故乡澄色的田野。傍晚的风吹着,光线黯淡。我埋头耕种,追赶日光。诗人坐在田埂上沉默不语,嘴里咀嚼着风,沉默如死去的蛹。光与暗的交替,光与暗相嵌流动。我们就像不曾离开这麦田。诗人两手空空,只衔回一支缄默的烟斗,而我捡回了一个发霉的馒头。夜色苍茫,而你说,疲倦是容易 J Tiredness is Easy When eveningfall comes, I and the poet go back to the fields of her hometown. The evening wind blew, the light bleak. I worked hard to catch up with the sun. The poet sits on the ridge, silent, mouth chewing the wind, silent like a dead puppet. Alternate light and dark, light and dark embedded flow. We are like never leaving this field. The poet hands empty, only back to a silent pipe, and I picked up a moldy bread. Night is vast, and you say that tiredness is easy