Music and the sound of rain are both soft, skillful 
at being absorbed. In a bed fit for side sleeping,
a biological clock is ticking. 
Thoughts on the pillow slightly slant. 
Before bed, write in your diary: Drenched to the skin today,
spent too much time mimicking the ocean.
How to become a typhoon? It’s exhausting
to remember a sound that breathes from your
bliss, that excites the magnet in me, incessantly
tempting the clouds in passing.

The clouds in passing are also innocent. 
When they’re still learning about new shapes, to assemble
or disperse, it’s my wish that makes them unbearable
to watch, isn’t it? A blanket warmed in the sun 
gets wet over and over, like a sentence pondered over
again and again, a song from a skipping vinyl, 
my simplest wish, all invisible to you
like the darkness of the night. 

The darkness of the night gradually floods the water.
The sound of you wading away, ticking. 

淋雨

音樂和雨聲都是柔軟的
擅於被吸收，在一張適合側臥的床上
生理時鐘滴滴答答
枕上的心事微微傾斜
在睡前，書寫日記：今天淋了太多雨
花了太多時間模仿海洋
如何成為颱風；花太多力氣
想記得一種聲音，來自於你的
快樂，喚醒我體內的磁
不斷招惹路過的雲

路過的雲也是無辜的，當它還在
學習新的形狀、集合或解散
是否我的心願使它不忍卒睹，滴滴答答
迫降了？曬暖的被子總能一再被淋溼
像反覆斟酌的句子、
跳針的歌、我最簡單的心願
都隱形於你眼前，如同夜裡的黑

夜裡的黑，漸漸淹起了水
你涉水離開的聲音，滴滴答答