Charles Simic's Poems

Translated by Shu Dandan

A picnic in the evening

That's the sky, the stars are sparse and vast-

Every home of our dark thoughts—

Its door leads to deeper darkness.

And you, like a new door-to-door salesman,

In the open palm of your hand

Just your own beating heart.

Everything is permeated with the existence of God-

She said in a confidential tone:

As if his soul would eavesdrop on us—

The dark Woods around us,

The face we can't see,

Even the bread we are eating.

You think again and again.

Meaningless details of the universe,

Sometimes sip red wine slowly.

In the silence that follows, you can hear

Her small, pointed teeth are chewing the crust—

Finally, she licked her lips.

Resist winter

The truth under your nose is dark.

What can you do?

Birds are silent; Nobody can ask.

You squint at the gray sky all day.

When the wind blows, you tremble like straw.

Like a gentle lamb, you grow your wool,

Until they follow you with scissors.

Flies hover over their open mouths,

Then they flew away like leaves,

Bare branches chased them in vain.

Winter is coming. Like the last one to be defeated.

Brave soldier, you stick to your post,

Welcome the first bare snowflake.

Until the neighbors come over and yell at you,

You are crazier than the weather, Charlie.

Insomnia hotel

I like my nest,

The window faces the brick wall.

There is a piano next door.

How many nights are there in a month?

A lame old man always comes to play.

My blue paradise.

But most of the time, it is quiet.

There are spiders wrapped in thick coats in every room.

A web of smoke and daydreaming

Catch its flying insect.

How dark,

I can't see my face clearly in the shaving mirror.

There was the sound of going upstairs barefoot at five in the morning.

That gypsy fortune teller,

The one on the corner,

Go out to pee after a night of sex.

I've also heard children whimper.

Sounds so close, in an instant.

I thought I was sobbing myself.

A book full of pictures.

Father studied theology in the mail,

It's time for the exam.

Mother is knitting. I sat quietly reading a book.

A book full of pictures. Night arrival.

My hands became cold and moved to death.

The faces of the king and queen.

There is a black raincoat in the upstairs bedroom.

Hanging from the ceiling.

But what is it doing there?

Mother's long needle flashed across.

They are black,

Just like it was in my head.

The sound of turning pages sounds like wings.

"The soul is a bird," he once said.

In my book full of pictures

A battle is raging: spear and sword.

Interwoven into a cold forest,

My heart is stinging and bleeding in the branches.

I was stolen. ...

I was stolen by gypsies. My parents immediately

Steal me back. Gypsies stole me again.

This lasted for a while. At the moment, I

Sucking my new mother's in the RV like a baby.

Black nipples, and the next minute I'm sitting at the long dining table.

Eat breakfast with a silver spoon

This is the first day of spring. One of mine.

Father is singing in the bathtub; another

A live sparrow was painted the color of a tropical bird.

Color.

tapestry

It hangs from heaven to the ground.

There are trees, cities, rivers,

Piglet and the moon. In the corner.

Snowflakes fell on a group of charged cavalry,

In another corner, women are planting rice.

You can also see:

A chicken was taken away by a fox.

On their wedding night, a naked couple,

A column of smoke,

A woman with evil eyes is spitting into a bucket of milk.

What's behind it?

-Space, a vast and empty space.

Who's talking now?

-A man sleeping in a hat.

What will happen when he wakes up?

He will walk into a barber shop.

They will shave him, clean his nose, ears and hair,

Make him look like everyone else.

afeared

Fear spreads from one person to another,

Unconsciously,