Pilgrimage notes
In 10,000 ways of praying.
I like to hear you sing.
I've always listened to it to speculate about degradation.
To resist liberation.
You're singing. My support is a great shock.
Please forgive me for not being able to discern the dreams of the Grey Shirt or the Crow.
Like I can't figure out the origin of the flood
The clouds or the Nine Springs?
He cares about the gold-plated river dyke.
Or the dignity of being trampled into powder?
Your heavy bass is like a mountain.
Everything you sing will come true.
Like legally expressing disgust.
Like the idea of equality in ant's nest.
For example, the aesthetics that fill this place.
Like total anger.
Like spring.
Poet profile.
Chen Gyu Li
The power of poetry has been suppressed and censored, and tends to be unstoppable. It was called by the ancient sages, and now it is ready to call. It's lit by drama and lit by drama. It competes with images and goes to freedom. It blooms and melts the ice of the language in order to awaken it.
Yes, write poetry.
Edit
At the end of 10,000 ways of praying, I'd like to hear you sing.
Everything you sing will come true.
Although I'm an unqualified believer. Though I am not ignorant, it is difficult for me to resist the temptation of corruption, just as it is difficult for me to distinguish between good and evil, and holy and evil.
If I fall from the sky, We shall close my lips, and shall not shout to one, and I shall not know whether it is fallen or released, nor shall I know where my heart belongs.
I'm so confused, waiting for the sound of your cool song.
Whether I have been able to raise myself to you with care and ear - whether I have the courage to overstep, the desire to break, and the power to break.
But before that, I was silent, waiting for you to wake up in spring and wait for the first greenness to break.
At the same time, we provide translations of the poem in English, German, French and Spanish and maintain the original style and rhythm of the poem to the maximum extent possible.
Readers can also feel the unique and commonality of the poem in different linguistic contexts.
English Version
Pilgrim's Notes
In the realm of countless prayers, I find my solace there
Listening to your voice, singing with such flair
I've been listening all along, seeking to comprehend
The depths of my fall, resisting the urge to transcend
You sing, and I'm left in boundless disarray
Forgive me, for I can't discern without dismay
The dreams of gray magpies and crows, intertwined
Just as I struggle to fathom the flood's design
Do I care for the clouds or the depths below?
The gilded riverbanks or the trampled dignity we know?
Your deep notes resonate, like mountains so grand
Everything you sing, I believe will come to hand
To express disgust, with a legal voice so clear
To elevate equality, in an anthill we hold dear
To erase the aesthetics, that engulf this time and space
To be consumed by anger, in its entirety, embrace
And like the arrival of spring, so serene
These are the visions your songs convene
from: Pierre Bonnard
Deutsche Version
Pilgernotizen
In den zehntausend Arten des Gebets
Höre ich gerne deinen Gesang
Ich höre zu, um den Verfall zu erahnen
Um der Erlösung zu widerstehen
Du singst, meine Hingabe ist grenzenlose Verwirrung
Bitte verzeih mir, dass ich nicht unterscheiden kann
Zwischen den Träumen der grauen Elstern und der Krähen
So wie ich nicht die Ursache der Flut klären kann
Ob es um die Wolken oder die neun Tiefen geht?
Ob es um die vergoldeten Flussufer geht oder um die zertretenen Würde?
Deine tiefe Stimme ist so schwer wie die Berge, die sich erstrecken
Alles, was du gesungen hast, wird wahr
Wie zum Beispiel der legale Ausdruck des Ekelns
Wie zum Beispiel die Gleichheit, die im Ameisenhaufen aufsteigt
Wie zum Beispiel die Ästhetik, die hier und jetzt erfüllt ist
Wie zum Beispiel die pure Wut
Wie zum Beispiel der Frühling
from: Pierre Bonnard
Version française
Journal du pèlerinage
Dans les milliers de façons de prier
J'aime t'entendre chanter
Je t'écoute toujours, pour deviner la décadence
Pour résister à la délivrance.
Tu chantes, ma nourriture est mon angoisse infinie
Pardonne-moi de ne pas pouvoir distinguer le rêve des pies et des corbeaux
Tout comme je ne peux pas comprendre l'origine des inondations
Est-ce les cieux ou les neuf enfers?
Est-ce les digues dorées ou la dignité piétinée en miettes?
Ta voix grave est aussi majestueuse que les montagnes
Tout ce que tu chantes se réalisera
Comme exprimer légalement le dégoût
Comme l'égalité qui s'élève dans une fourmilière
Comme éliminer l'esthétique qui imprègne cet instant et cet endroit
Comme une colère totale
Comme le printemps.
from: Pierre Bonnard
Versión española
Apuntes de Peregrinación
En las miles de formas de oración
me gusta escuchar tu canto.
Lo he estado escuchando, para descifrar la caída
para resistir la liberación.
Cantas, mi ofrenda es mi infinita confusión.
Perdóname por no poder distinguir los sueños de las grullas y los cuervos
como no puedo discernir las razones de la inundación
¿Importa el cielo o el más allá?
¿Importa el dique dorado o la dignidad pisoteada en polvo?
Tu voz grave es tan imponente como una cadena montañosa.
Todo lo que cantas se hará realidad
como expresar el disgusto de manera legítima
como el igualitarismo que surge de un hormiguero
como eliminar la estética que impregna este tiempo y lugar
como la ira total
como la primavera.
from: Pierre Bonnard