清影

Before

All the kings, the tricksters, the children

The artists, an artist, the artist

Who have they been?

What’s laid bare is all naivety and lies

 All “as if” moored along the streams of eternity

A broken world in colour

Each of us constructing our own empire

The afternoon

A sponge gorged on colour

Sits silent, variegated

Being and nothingness

Simmer slowly in their human vessels

Arcane images

Secrete their oils

Amid the glimmering

Making their stealthy escape

     — Li Shengzhao

Before

All the kings, the tricksters, the children

The artists, an artist, the artist

Who have they been?

What’s laid bare is all naivety and lies

 All “as if” moored along the streams of eternity

A broken world in colour

Each of us constructing our own empire

The afternoon

A sponge gorged on colour

Sits silent, variegated

Being and nothingness

Simmer slowly in their human vessels

Arcane images

Secrete their oils

Amid the glimmering

Making their stealthy escape

     — Li Shengzhao