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?ˉs 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

我將刷過的白鞋

用衛(wèi)生紙耐心包裹起來

放到窗邊晾曬

我將打折的雞蛋

敲在白瓷碗的邊緣

將洗過的酒杯倒扣在托盤

我將咬過的蘋果忘在廚房

那裸露的果肉

在時間中安靜地淤青

我將網(wǎng)購的新書堆滿沙發(fā)

那未被撕開的塑封

會將晚霞反射到鏡中

白天，我刷手機新聞

懷疑自己的經(jīng)驗

不足以理解當(dāng)今世界

夜里，我躺在木床上

聽到不遠處喝醉的青年

喊著他們的痛苦

夢中，我遠行回來

在門口取出鑰匙，我感覺

仍有一個我在里面生活

Xia Chao 夏超

Born in 1989， Xia Chao is a poet and poetry translator who dabbles in fiction and photography. He won Peking University’s Weiming Poetry Prize in 2010， and spent a year as a volunteer teacher in rural Burqin county， northern Xinjiang， which became the inspiration of his 2012 poetry collection Remote Land（《一邊疆》）. His other collection， Verses from the Ocean（《海上書》）is a self-selected anthology of his works between 2012 and 2016. Readers can find Xia’s latest work on Douban and on his WeChat account， remote_land.