What is the original text of Liao's Book of the Afterlife?

Now I just want to be quiet.

Lying next to someone,

Let the shadows of clouds in the sky

Thousands of years have passed, just like a day.

We loved and then forgot.

Grow like grass, drill through our fingers,

Drowning our bodies until

It turned into dust, fossils and starry sky.

Leaves rustle and talk to us,

This is the spring birds singing in the distance.

Water flows through families around the world,

People walk through old dreams and abandoned poems, through sunset and broken bridges.

Walking through the debris of our words,

The long night we spent with resentment;

Sing some hoarse and out-of-tune songs,

Smile a smile that will never look back for anyone.

Ah, the plain is expanding,

A road stretches on the forgotten map,

Night after night, I changed my style in the dark,

Turn into candles and burn our own vanity.

Stop telling stories about strangers,

It's just crickets gnawing at pillows.

Not to mention the persistence of past lives and Sun Moon.

The sand clock is turning, turning over the deserted gv 10.

Migratory birds fly in the dusk light,

A season so sad,

After singing, it sang again.

The world has disappeared, and it can only be like this.

However, I just want to be quiet.

Lying next to someone,

Let the clouds shine in the sky.

A day flies on our faces like a thousand years.

I. The end of the world

After sunset, the world became barren,

Those who are late are all on the deserted Fourth Ring Road.

The snow slowly silted up and came out of a room next to us.

A house with lights on-it's a mess,

Like a hunted bird of paradise.

The piano's voice trembled from its tail feathers,

Dirty snow devours like noisy air.

Swallowed my steps. I asked: Where is this?

East Balizhuang in a glass bottle or Rhode Island?

Under the guidance of flying snow, I suddenly twisted my finger.

The world is spinning and rising, the skeleton of led zeppelin.

Grey rabbit's jumping lamp. Say: destroy, break up?

Where did I hug again?

The same body, the same falling sand,

The same person who spins at the end of the record?

The cold is getting deeper and deeper, although it is summer.

The wreckage is enough to ignite the darkness in my stomach.

The fog is suffocating. Look at those ghosts coming.

They say what we say, and then imitate.

Our laughter has been extinguished by the rain.

Two. sacrifice

The world was suddenly cut off by dead trees and broken trees,

I am like a sunken ship, full of snow water.

So much for the burning. I am the one.

Dark part, please let me deny myself:

Then it turns white in the center of the flower branch.

Memories don't need to continue, just like good days.

There is no need to start over. Since then, this has been a

The world that has nothing to do with us: mushroom cloud cover,

The snow is still black, the fire is still cold and the sky is still gray.

All I remember is still curly buds.

A small corpse landed on my palm;

That's not you and me. That's a trailer.

Fireflies on the night of our lives;

That's a bee. It can't stand us any longer.

However, we met in its sacrifice.

I don't know how to sublimate, say: our destruction.

Bloom the petals one by one.

All the way to the top of ginkgo tree.

But it just passed by, fused, cracked, withered and hurt.

This is our sacrifice: its seed is called sex.

Three. rotate

But the world was destroyed in an afternoon,

Memories flash, from the fragrant hills where dark clouds accumulate.

Or a path washed by heavy rain. This is my hand,

Your hand. Extending from the corner of the messy brick,

It crossed the black water, lightning, winding roads, up to 8000 kilometers.

But the world was destroyed in an afternoon,

Memories, Yuanmingyuan and Di 'anmen,

I am a ruin, scattered among tourists.

We looked at each other crying and laughing, as if it were all this.

Just to prove that we are intact after the invasion.

But the world was destroyed in an afternoon,

There's no need for witnesses. Only a knife.

Carefully fiddling with our broken bones.

Until they turn to dust, with the disappearing earth,

Until the stars turn into running water, angels

Rising in those layered missiles.

We saw the afterlife in the brilliant fireworks:

/kloc-Luoyang in 0/937, Paris in 0/868,

It doesn't matter which abandoned city in 2002-

We roam like two newborns with arrows in their hearts.

Four. later ages/time

I remembered another one: it was my last life and this life.

The wandering one, she is like a mirror,

Let me photograph what I lost in another world.

Rusty side, dull side, cracked side.

One side Then we cut it all in an instant, and it was still messy.

I am another person in the dark.

Alienated body. You, me, her, I don't know,

Sometimes I dream after drinking, just like a joke:

If in the future, I am a wandering teenager.

Walking on the twisted national road, begging for white clouds outside the sky;

Suppose, I sell arms and get stuck in

Wild jungle; I cried that I was drunk, a prostitute.

Tears. I like her.

Write my name on the water? Winter will be

It will be a disaster if the birds flap their wings forever.

If it no longer condenses into ice,

I will be mute in the next life. Narrative pen

It has been knotted in linen and lyrical.

Pity. People in the afterlife will come back crying-

In a previous life, we stared for a long time and passed each other in an instant.

The verb (the abbreviation of verb) has nothing.

Now I'm going to open another chapter for that man.

Tell nothing (like a song with flowers in full bloom,

Listen, too): Speaking of the time of day.

Encountering a desperate situation is like a climber digging a fragrant snow cave.

Suddenly, the strings rang brightly in my ear.

I was at a loss in my panic and was immediately held hostage by the starlight.

To the center of the galaxy.-When you met me,

You can call me a ghost who makes much ado about nothing.

Yes, everything is upside down,

I floated down and suddenly saw that I was just wearing a white robe.

What else is there to say? The world is just around the corner.

Break, the sky is the sky, kill.

Is to kill people. However, a lamp slipped out of it.

Illuminate my hand on the keyboard, some words.

Hold my throat hard.

I accept it because I am vain.

Swing, because you are nothing but another.

It's just countless, swirling worlds.

Drowning me-as if I were a letter.

From the world, like countless burned letters.

Step 6 think back

The house was destroyed by a fire in the sun.

It doesn't matter what the memory is, it looks like a fleeting time.

The sky is in a trance, and strawberry fragrance wafts between the curtains.

I slept and woke up, woke up and slept,

Sometimes I dream that I am crying, but I don't know.

The moon and stars embrace me because I am a new world.

Abandoned baby of the ugliest prostitute.

Then I was old in an instant, in order to sit under the waste column

Tell the story of an immortal dynasty until

An artist's flute cut my heart.

Take a sip of bright absinthe, and I will ripple.

Think of some irrelevant time:

I used to write with the pen and ink of the ancients.

There are two or three things about my short life in previous lives:

Standing on the hill overlooking the east, west, north and south.

I don't remember anything, I thought and thought,

Finally pulled a girl's black scarf.

Wipe my face. The flute is air,

I am the dust on the road. Let's laugh and kick together.

I drifted away like a star on the night of destruction a hundred years ago.

About the author: Liao, male, born in Xinxing, Guangdong, 1975, moved to Hong Kong. Hong Kong writer, modernist poet, photographer and freelance writer. He used to be a bookstore manager and magazine editor. 199 1 started to write poetry, and then set foot in the fields of prose, novel, drama and criticism. He won the champion of poetry group and prose group in Hong Kong Youth Literature Award, the champion of prose group in Hong Kong Chinese Literature Award, and the third place in poetry group and novel group; The first prize of Taiwan Province China Times Literature Award and United Daily News Literature Award; Joint Literature and Novel Newcomer Award, Malaysia Flower Trace World Chinese Novel Award, Hong Kong Chinese Literature Biennale Award, now living in Beijing.

Personal works: poetry collection, novel collection, photography collection, criticism collection.

His published poetry collections include Jin Nocturnal, Forever Night, Sinking with Fish, Corner of the Garden or Corner of the Garden, Wandering in the Accordion, Bohemian Ballad, Bitter Angel, Youth Journey, Black Rain Coming, Hong Kong and Ghosts Roaming, and Novel Collection 18.