goofegg
1
What man doesn’t dream of his goddess’ embrace?
What woman craves not her lover to plow her fields?
What life blooms without parents’ boundless grace?
All begin where ancient fire cracked earth’s shield.
Two spirits poured passion into night’s cold womb—
The darkest cave glowed, secrets turned bright,
A door swung open in primordial gloom,
Freeing lost souls to dance in primal light.
The gate of life and death—time stretched or brief—
Like lava swallowing stone in molten kiss,
Our grinding sparks lit flames beyond belief,
Walls melting, rivers of fire hiss.
Like sacred peaks bathed in storm’s fierce rain,
Not mere water—lava’s baptismal flame.
In this world flipped, you’re sky where I lay slain,
My answer to your heat? Wild fire, the same.
2
I am a bow, stretched tight, ready to shoot,
At the city gates, soldiers surge like flood.
Millions of souls cling to each swimming fish—
When Life’s gate opens, they’ll dive into lava’s blood.
At lava’s end blooms a pure, untouched bud,
Dreamt by every soldier, every fish’s heart.
The path to worship is short yet endless—
Each rocky trench hides bones from those who depart.
Earthquakes and tidal waves roar where life starts,
Our ecstasy makes cave walls squeeze and swell.
We drain ourselves to summon twin tidal surges,
Spirits fight through tunnels of molten hell.
In this brief-yet-eternal trek, love emerges—
Smooth channels guide us through the burning night.
Few reach the pure flower waiting serene,
Quiet in her warm room, bathed in soft light.
3
What fierce hunger drives us to circle our prize?
Fear rivals might unlock her first—we compete.
The bud burns hot, yet guards its one-time key,
For even gods shaped her through storms incomplete.
In darkness, humans lit a torch to breed light—
A flash of chance, door cracked then sealed forever.
The pure bloom opens, shuts in one breath’s span,
To trap one spirit’s tail—no second endeavor.
Closed gates mean death for suitors left behind,
The “chosen” becomes captive in love’s tight cage.
He yields to the factory hungry for his parts,
As she too surrenders to the merging stage.
No selves remain, yet both crave fusion’s heat—
Machines roar alive when their bodies align.
Not even creators grasp the assembly’s code,
Higher laws craft miracles on this divine line.
The sacred palace—every man’s dreamland,
Where miracles bloom through his toil unseen.
The dazed goddess feels no change in her form,
Still tangling like seaweed around drowning fish.
Her clouded ears sense waves’ roar and quake,
Stone walls spark lightning, lava bursts awake.
She feels her maker pound the palace gate—
Old tunnels tighten, doors swing shut, then break.
The bud devours spirits, splits too fast,
Not anchored yet to drink the mother’s sap.
This dance of flesh—sweetest yet cursed task—
All tragedy springs from its blissful trap.
Love’s joy flows from two bodies burning bright,
But truest bliss starts when new life takes root.
Though entering heaven’s gates drowns us in delight,
Nothing compares to nurturing love’s tender fruit.
In peaceful days, two hearts listen as one,
Through layered walls, life’s flutter stirs the night.
Joy like tossing a boat from ravine to sky—
Hugging close, we float weightless in love’s light.
Mother and child now bound by rivers shared,
Two pulses drumming in the same red stream.
The seed-giver watches from outside the veil,
Guarding the bud that swells with every dream.
Once-graceful form now bends under new weight,
A taut belly sways like ripe fruit on the vine.
The gate of life, once wild, now stills its fire,
Stretch marks etch bars—a sacred, aching sign.
What pure flame once burned now feeds a new blaze,
Her radiant glow dimmed to fuel this spark.
All sacrifices worn as crowns of pride—
Together we await dawn’s first cry in the dark.
4
O pitiful soul—once joy, now pain’s twin face,
Same sweat-drenched throes for this sacred hour.
What opened wide now strains to push life through—
The narrow path splits wide to birth love’s flower.
What heart of stone won’t tremble at this sign?
Who stays dry-eyed watching selfless ones bleed?
Earth’s purest joy—her man waiting nearby,
Fanning ash to flames for new life’s need.
Not all new fires burn safe in sheltered rooms,
Nor feast on riches to make their blaze climb.
How many embers glow again for this spark?
Defying cold and dark at time’s raw prime.
Reader—weren’t you cradled soft as this light?
Else how grasp the magic of life’s rebirth?
We’re all first miracles, pulled from warm night,
Now guarding new dawns spun from common earth.
Feb 3, 2025
Translated by deepseek for 巫山云雨组诗-生命礼赞
https://goofegg.github.io/content.html?id=628
