XIA CHAO

I hang the winter coats

in the wardrobe,fold the summer shorts

into the drawer.

I wrap the polished white shoes

patiently in toilet paper,

placing them by the sunny window to dry.

I tap the discount eggs

against the rim of the white porcelain bowl,

invert the washed wine glass on the tray.

I forget the bitten apple in the kitchen,

the exposed flesh

quietly bruising with time.

I pile the mail-order books on the sofa,

their intact plastic wrappers

casting the last rays into the mirror.

By day,I scroll through news on the phone,

suspecting that my life experience

is insufficient for understanding today’s world.

At night,I lie on the wooden bed,

hearing drunken youths in the near distance

yelling out their pain.

In dreams,I return from a long journey

and fish for my key at the door,feeling

there is still a me living inside.

獨(dú)身生活

我將秋冬季的上衣

掛在柜子里，將夏季短褲

疊放在抽屜中

我將刷過(guò)的白鞋

用衛(wèi)生紙耐心包裹起來(lái)

放到窗邊晾曬

我將打折的雞蛋

敲在白瓷碗的邊緣

將洗過(guò)的酒杯倒扣在托盤

我將咬過(guò)的蘋(píng)果忘在廚房

那裸露的果肉

在時(shí)間中安靜地淤青

我將網(wǎng)購(gòu)的新書(shū)堆滿沙發(fā)

那未被撕開(kāi)的塑封

會(huì)將晚霞反射到鏡中

白天，我刷手機(jī)新聞

懷疑自己的經(jīng)驗(yàn)

不足以理解當(dāng)今世界

夜里，我躺在木床上

聽(tīng)到不遠(yuǎn)處喝醉的青年

喊著他們的痛苦

夢(mèng)中，我遠(yuǎn)行回來(lái)

在門口取出鑰匙，我感覺(jué)

仍有一個(gè)我在里面生活