Detour ​

於是我再次走上這條傾斜的路徑
追逐黃昏，追逐昨日的亡魂

生活是一條被流放的馬可夫鏈
我看見自身複寫睡前
再次成功抹消前日的痕跡

予時光以文明，再讓文明
成為反復遺忘的賦格

你會在山丘上垂直地歌唱，像日晷
為我記錄運行的軌跡嗎？

如果我們在彼岸相逢，你會
和我一同校對墓碑上的詩句嗎？

我將遺忘山丘下寬廣的麥田
遺忘寧靜，遺忘無伴奏的雲層
如何抵住光錐的沉落

於是有風靜靜流過山巔
氣流在黃昏旋轉，匯聚
形成通往虛空遙遠的苦路

So I step once more onto this slanting road,
chasing the dusk, chasing the ghosts of yesterday.

Life is a Markov chain in exile.
Before sleep, I watch myself replicate,
once again erasing the traces of the day before.

Grant time a civilization—then let that civilization
become a fugue of recurring forgetfulness.

Will you sing upright upon the hill, like a sundial,
recording its passing trajectory for me?

If we were to meet on the other shore,
would you proofread with me
the verses carved upon the gravestone?

I will forget the wide wheat fields below the hill,
forget the calmness,
forget how A Cappella clouds
withstand the sinking of the light cone.

And so the wind flows quietly across the summit.
Air currents turn at dusk, gathering,
forming a distant road of suffering
that leads into the void.

01.10.2023