Oh, We Who Drift Through the 22nd Century | Museum-Quality Art Print

Silent, suspended celestial bodies
move on, untouched,
indifferent—
tired long ago
of the electric noise
pulsing through their own veins,
restless, overfull with longing.
Down the stairs,
summer grass shivers with a figure.
And should eyes meet—
then every outing
would feel like
it happened at night.
But love in the twenty-second century—
its texture
leaves me adrift.
The galaxy rinsed in ether,
hanging above us.
If we stopped walking,
how could we bear
this universe’s mute clamor?
After all, August has arrived.
Except for the flowers,
patiently waiting to be watered,
we, the chaotic lives,
are already spent arrows.
Maybe from some maternal care,
you said:
"Soon, when we wake,
we’ll see the world
was just the corner
of a beach at winter’s end.
And humans—
they never really loved summer.
Because in that season,
not only love dies."
Faced with this cruelty,
this kindness of yours,
I had no choice
but to bare
a lonely,
pure
desire to admire you.
An evening thick with thought,
where movement
became impossible.
We drifted like spirits,
back to your dark room—
a universe in infancy—
just to glimpse
that slight warmth,
that fold
called twenty-second century love.
Oh, we of the chaos!
Flickering like stars—
fleeting, anxious.
If we gaze upon each other—
then we are kissing kissing.

静默幽悬的天体们，置若罔闻地
无休行进着
它们早已厌烦自身血管中
不安又夹杂过多期待的电波信号
步下台阶
夏草摇曳中人影颤动
如果对视
我们的每场出行则都似于夜中发生
而
二十二世纪之爱
它的质地
令我无尽恍惚
涤荡着乙醚的银河
高悬于你我之上
若停止步行
该如何面对这宇宙的缄默与喧闹
毕竟，来到八月
除却一些乖乖等待浇灌的花朵
我们这样混沌的生命已是强弩之末
或许出于一种母性的照料
你说，不久之后
待我们醒来
就会发现
整个世界不过冬末的海滩一隅
而人类从未爱过夏日
因为在那时死亡的不仅有爱情
面对这样残忍又善良的你
我不得不坦露出一些
孤独又纯净的欣赏欲
一个思绪黏稠到无法徜徉的傍晚
我们如灵体般飘忽着
回到你黑暗的房间——
一座婴儿时期的宇宙
仅仅为了一睹「二十二世纪之爱」
那微暖的皱褶
哦，混沌的我们！
似繁星般闪烁，流逝的，不安的我们
如果相望着——
便也亲吻着亲吻