5. Shapeless - Chan

shapeless

translated by PLS

the head of the black monster is round

passing by a closed cafe after work

saw him without his wig at the foot of the hill

silver blood gurgling out of his head

spreading out a bright thin mist over the sea

— people hurried over to watch

the drifting spirit becomes heavy when it meets water

and then it meets the month of July

simmering, smoking, sizzling

shimmering, frying the city till it’s crisp and hard

till day and night, the alive and the dead

become each other’s mirror

the body of the black monster

half in the jungle, half in the city

I thought those people

were alive in the brightly lit room

and died when shadow flooded in

everyone was living alone

the habitual opening and closing of elevator doors

the fire alarm ringing at midnight

— no one escaped

no need to bear the pride in being a human, or the insecurity

the haunted house still occupied

the dormitory facing the family cemetery with excellent fengshui

pigeon houses and butchered rooms have already ripped the body of spirit

why be afraid that our spirit will be summoned away and not return

no need to carry the doubt of being a ghost, or the dread

already sinking to the bottom of the city

salt water undulating, without any root

embracing death alone

no man surrounded by solitude more powerful than this

I am the black monster

half in the city, half in the jungle

I am my own reflection

a witness, but also a mist of silver blood as a landscape

the drifting spirit becomes lighter when it meets a human

and then it meets the month of July

steaming, soaring, softening

surrounding, boiling the city till it’s soft and gentle 

till day and night, the upper and nether worlds

become one

in the month of July

joss paper burns out an endless street

the loners in the city

are toasting to the wandering ghosts

with smoke and fire