Selection of William Hein Poetry ｜ In the dry grave, their seeds have experienced for three thousand years

William Heyen (1940-): William Hein, a 20th century American poet, studied at New York University in the early years. Now he is a professor of English at the university. Multi -volume of the City Fables (1980), "Dragonfly King" (1981); compiled contemporary American poems such as "1976 American Poets" (1976), "The Generation of 2000" (1984), and have won White Various American Poetry Awards such as Benner Awards. His poems have a strong depth and breadth, natural language, no carving, and have a greater influence among young and middle -aged poets in the United States.

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Pheasant

Or called Ardonnis,

The other remembered flower loss,

Blood drip. That handsome boy

Dead. In Palestine, young man

Still dying. Their handsome shine

And the small red tears flowing out of the grass.

In the next spring, Adonis blossomed again.

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buffalo

Niu Qun played the moon,

We can see them

In the clear night sky,

Then, then, then

The river of black lights

Flowing again

In the sea.

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Urban fable

These hooks hanging meat

Ten on the lamp post:

Some people will take

Then, then, then

They swallow, almost deep

Make their lives unbearable,

Hook, tear them open,

Then, then, then

Hearing their own disgusting roar,

Seeing their own sidewalks,

These hooks are stuck in their sternum,

Then, then, then

The flame of their brain eruption

Mingcan or dimly like this city

Get them and reject them.

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Apricot

Palestine turned to the first day of the year.

Now, the beautiful apricot

The head is blossomed into light white flowers.

Then, then, then

This article was given in the wind in the wind

What is the youth in the white air of Xingzi?

What should we know about blood in winter?

Then, then, then

Ancient Arabians, ancient Jews, or this tree you became,

January snow -white apricot,

We can almost hear it.

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Wittgenstein

I was confused.

This city is confused.

I want to get rid of.

Then, then, then

I tried its window: too high.

I tried its chimney: too narrow.

I knocked on its wall: too thick.

Then, then, then

I turn around: the tunes start, melody.

This time its doors were opened.

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spider

Sometimes, even before they speak,

In the air behind my eyes

The spiders appeared,

Every ground facing the ground that I can't find

Then, then, then

Bend a grassy stem,

There is one ends of each stem

The spider shining pale like its flowers.

They show this world

Then, then, then

Image spider,

Lemon spider, long legs

Semen's fine droplets.

Soon, they flow in tears

Then, then, then

Wait until I close my eyes

The spiders disappeared--

I really know,

Can't withstand it,

Then, then, then

But when we died, we died in

The spider of the semen

Flashing and swaying place,

Bend where its spice stems.

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Mustard

We look around us by the lake below,

Seeing clusters in the wheat,

Seeing the fishermen in front of the net,

Seeing the yellow flowers of mustard grass

The pods burst into the straight stem.

Then, then, then

In the dry grave, their seeds

After three thousand years. Exposure again

These things germinated in new tears. Big grass, wheat,

The fishermen are still in front of their nets

Under the golden sun, and mustard grass, give us

Then, then, then

The sorrow of the never aging in the world,

The wisdom that was crushed into powder blooms on the tongue.

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Pay attention to sleeping, poetic habitat

Facing the sea, looking for light with black eyes. On November 16, 2015, the Poetry Society of Sleeping Poetry Club, the Poetry Club took the mission of "speaking for grassroots poets" and the purpose of promoting the "spirit of poetry", that is, the pursuit of the truth, kindness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, and the spirit of poetry. Poetry friends have been published in the collection of poems "The Spring Blossoms of Sleeping Poems" and "The Grass Ying Ying Flying on Sleeping Poems".

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