I feel that the tracker no longer controls my route.

The noisy red man arrested them,

Take it off as a target and nail it to the colorful pile.

I don't care about the fate of these sailors,

I only deliver Flemish wheat and English cotton.

When the tracker's cries and noises disappear,

The river let me drift at will, without attachments.

I ran all winter, ignoring the surging tide,

Deaf than a child who is addicted to playing.

I saw the peninsula break free from the cable one by one.

Like a swarm of victorious bees.

The storm blessed me to wake up at sea,

I dance lighter than a cork,

On the waves-the eternal rocking bed of the dead

For ten nights in a row, I didn't miss the silly eyes at the traffic lights.

Green water penetrated my Chinese fir shell,—

Sweeter than a child's greedy sour apple,

Wash off blue wine stains and vomit stains,

Wash my anchor and my rudder.

Since then, I have been immersed in the poems of the sea-

The sea is full of stars, like milk;

I enjoy green light and green, which sometimes drift by.

A pale, melancholy and intoxicated floating corpse.

This piece of blue and absurd, and the fire in the daytime.

The slow rhythm under the reflection is dyed in an instant-

The mildew of orange-red love is fermenting and bitter.

Stronger than alcohol, wider than the harp.

I am familiar with the sky cracked by lightning.

Wild waves, rapids, tornadoes; I am familiar with dusk.

Dawn is as exciting as a flock of pigeons.

I have seen wonders that people can only imagine!

I've seen sunsets, blackened by mysterious fears,

Shining with a long purple light,

According to the trembling of the rolling waves in the distance,

Like a chorus in an ancient drama!

I dreamed of a green night, in the dazzling snow.

A kiss slowly rose to the eyes of the sea,

Unprecedented circulation of sap,

The yellow and blue awakening of phosphorescent singers!

I've been chasing long waves for months,

It hit the rock like a crazy cowshed,

How can you imagine Maria's bright feet?

Can tame the face of this ocean of asthma!

I ran into the incredible Florida,

Leopard is covered with human skin, and its eyes are mixed with exotic flowers and herbs.

The rainbow stretched tight there, like a reins.

Wearing sea blue horses under sea level!

I've seen fermented swamps, fish baskets-

A rotting beast sleeps among reeds;

On the calm sea, the water suddenly poured down.

A distant scene fell into the whirlpool!

I have seen glaciers, a silver sun and a coal sky.

The pearl wave and the grounding of brown seabed are sinister and unpredictable.

The twisted bark there smells black,

A giant snake bitten by a bedbug fell from the tree!

I really want to show the children the swordfish in the blue waves-

Those goldfish, singing fish;

The foam of flowers blesses me to drift without anchor,

The indescribable breeze gave me wings.

Ocean-the victim of world fatigue

I often gently shake me to sleep with its sobs,

It held up a bunch of black flowers to me, revealing a yellow hole.

I knelt down like a woman and stood quietly. ...

Like a floating island, full of golden eyes,

I rocked the boat with bird droppings and a noisy boat.

I sailed, from the cable in the water,

Floating corpses often drift backwards to take a nap! ……

I am a lost ship, entangled in the blue silk thread of the sea,

Or is it too empty for birds to be blown by the wind?

Whether it's an armored ship or a Hanseatic League sailboat,

Don't try to catch my drunk skull.

I just need to ripple, smoke and let the purple fog navigate.

I drilled through the red sky wall.

Moss in the sun, tears in the sky-

This is a good piece of music for a real poet.

I am running, wearing a new moon of lightning,

Escort my crazy board is a dark hippocampus;

When beating the blue sky with sticks in July,

The hot funnel is hanging in the air!

I was shaking all over, and I could hear it from a hundred miles away.

A hippo in heat, a roaring whirlpool,

I will always spin the calm blue,

I miss the ancient battlements in Europa!

I've seen Star Island! There,

The frantic Tianmen opened to Voyager:

"You sleep in this bottomless night-

Ah, a million golden birds? Ah, the vitality of the future? "

But I stopped crying! The morning light is so sad,

The whole sun is bitter and the whole moon is bad.

Bitter love intoxicated me,

Oh, may my keel be broken! May I die in the sea!

If I want to see the water in Europe, I just want to see it.

At night, the dark and cold pool on the road,

A sad child crouched by the water,

Put a boat as fragile as a butterfly.

Waves, I have soaked your depression and fatigue,

We can't track the cotton boat anymore,

From then on, I no longer walk under the banner of arrogance.

Or paddle under the terrible eyes of the barge!

Wang Yiping studied in the French Department of Beijing University of International Relations, and studied in the Chinese Department of China Renmin University as an undergraduate and graduate student. 1990 Stay in school to teach after graduation.

Extended information: Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud (French: Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud,1854 101October 20th-189 1 year1month1.

Drunk Boat was written in the summer of 187 1 2008, when Rambo was brewing his "psychic" theory. Rambo's so-called channeling refers to a superhuman ability to see, hear and feel things that ordinary people can't see, hear or feel.

He believes that outstanding poets should be psychics, and only psychics can reach the realm of "unknown" and write real poems. To be psychic, you must disturb your own sensory system, "disturbing all your senses in a long-term, huge and gradual way." To this end, we should paralyze our senses with spirits and marijuana, and get close to the invisible truth in the confusion caused by hallucinations and words.

Reference source: Baidu Encyclopedia-Drunk Boat