Yan Yihu /彦一狐

Yan Yihu（alias Fox Yan）was born in Henan Province. She is the chief editor of "Wetland" poetry magazine. Her publications include an anthology of poetry "Who is a Pause in Your Poem" and a big size collection of poems "The Fox” in hundred foxes series. Her address: 3rd Floor in left, Lane 1, Unit 2, Hunan Institute of Humanities Science and Technology of Hunan Province, Loudi City, 417000, China. Telephone: 13638488289

       A Letter to the Man of Honour / 与君书

Notes: Nietzsche said: "true philosopher was re-bored after the

death" and the poet will gain the renascence in the name of death.

Since then, I will exchange the remaining life

for a half cup of dust

This is the clear conversion from my fuzzy possibility

You say, live beyond one hundred and fifty years of age

The shadow fall beneath my feet vanish with the scattered clouds

But my soul attached on top of the soul

The glittering stars stay in the pavilion of my dream

Darling, in the remaining time

Butterflies are getting cold

I lead worse life in this lifetime

To me, life is just a process of conception

I am living in a small house and eating simple food

Like barnyard grass.

Waiting for death as scheduled production

the drowsy sleep lasts

I will accompany you from the moment of death

The poppy release flavor of the money

Take what for dependence

How beautiful love is, it does not need to reckon for

any interest

In the north, on a frozen road

Many children, were born to be orphans

Where is the old man used to live under well lid

In the worldly life, even God is dead.

Living to be a shame

God create man, no distinction between the poor and the rich

For me, to be a poet

the virtual ring on the ring finger

Has nothing to do with love, it only belongs to Muse

Witness the only truth

I live less half of your life

One old man with silver hair totter among the withered grass and tomb

In your remaining life that outlive me

You tell the passerby: here bury a poet

I ever fell in love with her.

        与君书

题记：尼采说：“真正的哲学家，是死后才出生的”。而诗人，必须

           以死的名义，换取生。

自此，我便用余下的人生


兑换，半杯尘埃


这是我用模糊的概率做出清醒的换算


你说，要活过一百五十岁

遗落于我足下的影子


随乱云飞去。而我的灵魂执着于灵魂之上


满天星灿，滞留在梦中楼阁


亲爱，这余下的时光


蝴蝶也冷了

我这一生，活得非常糟糕


因为生命对我来说只是一个孕育的过程


我住着很小的房子吃着简单的食物


像稗草一样


等待死亡如期临盆

这样昏沉沉睡去


我便从死的那一刻活下来陪你


罂粟花发出铜板的气息


拿什么相依


爱多好啊，它不需要算计


任何利息

在北方，一条冻僵的马路上


许多孩子，一出生就成为了孤儿


井盖下的老人如今睡在哪里


浮世里，连上帝都死了


我活成了一种羞耻

上帝造人时，原本没有贫富之分


只因为，我做了一个诗人


无名指上虚拟的指环


与爱情无关，它只属于缪斯


见证唯一的真相

我活不过你的一半


如果衰草、墓碑中能够蹒跚一顶华发


在多于我的岁月里


你可以逢人就说：这里葬着一位诗人


我和她相爱过

        The thorn birds

On a mountain

I see the stone

Hide in the grass as gently as water

Centipedes are crawling

ceaselessly, write the immortal with mutilated limbs

The new grave in the mountainside

I hear a soul to climb out of the grave

Keep flapping

A bird fly by

Utterly, nobody knows

In fact, Tomb-sweeping Day just passed

The ashes flavor from the ruins

Become aerial birds

I only raise my head, to see a beast

Running upside down

To and fro between the journey of a Book

Pick randomly a green feather from the mountain

Embed into the page number of the days

heard the thorn bird in the book

Singing loudly and clearly

          荆棘鸟

在一座山上


我看到了石头


它以弱水的姿态藏于乱草之中


蜈蚣们正在爬行
不

停地，用断肢写下不朽

新坟就在山腰


我听到一个魂魄爬出墓穴


噼哩啪啦地自拍


一只鸟飞过


全然,无人知晓

其实，清明刚过


灰烬中散发的烟火味道


变成了飞禽


我必须抬头，才能看清一只走兽


倒挂着奔跑

往返于一本书的途中

随手摘下山的一根绿色羽片


插入日子的页码


就听到书中的那只荆棘鸟


嘹亮的鸣叫

        Virtualize a love

Eight hundred years ago

We lost contact

Eight hundred years later, there is still no sign of you

In the wind, I often hear the inflammation of your breathing system

The northern warm rains

You say: you stole the honey in my breath

You don't have to get the lovesickness.

No one will come and rescue you

People of your kind

You ‘d better go nowhere in the future

Fear of the hardship, fear of the fatigue, will be lost your way everywhere

I say wherever I will go in the coming days

Will ask for the permission from you

The train leaves far away

The black butterfly fly out of your eyes

Always refuse to leave

keep whispering

Darling, where are you going

I don’t approve

hereafter

I willingly

Cureless

Eight hundred years don’t see you again

        虚拟一场爱情


八百年前


我们失去联系


八百年后，你又没了消息


在风里，我常常听到你呼吸系统的炎症


北方暖暖的细雨


你说：你偷走了我呼吸里的蜜


你不要得相思病啊


没人来救你


你这种人
今后哪里都不要去


怕吃苦，怕受累，走到哪里都迷路


我说以后我去哪里


都会请示你


火车开出很远了


你眸子里飞出来的黑蝴蝶


一直不肯离去


反来复去地耳语


亲爱的，你去哪里


我不批


那以后


我就这么甜蜜地


病入膏肓


八百年没再看见你