焚風夏午

焚風夏午它的冷淡之心
蟬鳴有過去年的樹影

搖曳著回憶

誰問稻穗是否已經低垂

昏沉無夢

故事尚未成形

    Summer Noon

The summer noon under the scorching wind,

its indifferent heart.

Cicada songs carry last year's shadows of trees,

swaying with memory.

Who asks

whether the rice ears have begun to bow?

Drowsy, dreamless.

The story

has yet to take shape.