Where I’ve Never Existed
I am the song that will never be played in a playlist,
The snowflake that descends from the sky before taking shape and melts away,
The tree that falls in the forest with no one to hear,
The deleted code and the clipped intonation.
I am the memory that will never be summoned in the mind,
The pages in a library book that remain untouched,
The stars in the universe that no one sees,
The fleeting thoughts and lost responses in a conversation.
I am like a grain of sand on the shore, swallowed by the waves,
A pine branch on a distant mountain, silently withering away.
I was once a touch of crimson at dawn,
And the quiet of the evening journey home.
Maybe I am the dreams that were never pursued,
And the emotions forever buried.
I move around this world, silent and unnoticed,
Perhaps I once existed in a corner of someone's soul,
Or maybe I forever wander in the void.
I am that strange existence that has come and gone,
Seemingly never to return.
In the alleyways of time,
I may have left a mark,
Or perhaps only this unspeakable poem remains.
Chinese Version:
我未曾来过
我是随机播放列表中永远不会被播放的歌曲,
是空中飘落尚未成形却已消融的雪花,
是森林中倒下无人听见的大树,
是被删除的代码和被剪掉的语气词。
我是隐藏在脑海中永远不会被唤起的回忆,
是尘封在图书馆中从未被翻开的书页,
是宇宙中无人看见的星星,
是转瞬即逝的想法和对话中遗失的回应。
我如同海岸边的沙粒,被浪潮吞没,
如同远山上的松枝,默默枯萎。
或许我曾是晨曦的一抹绯红,
又或是暮晚的归途寂静。
也许是那些未被拥抱的梦想,
与那些永远深埋的情感。
我在这个世界中流转,无声无息,
可能曾存在于某个心灵的角落,
或者永远默默地徘徊在虚空之中。
我是那个既曾经来过,
又似乎永不再现的奇妙存在。
在这时光的巷陌,
我或许留下了印记,
又或许只留下这段无法言说的诗篇。
Thought Experiments
I boarded the Ship of Theseus, sailing on its boundless sea,
Witnessing countless horizons, my thoughts soaring free.
In pursuit of an answer that exists not in reality.
With Schrödinger's cat as my companion,
Together, we dwell in the Chinese room aboard this tide.
Year after year, from dawn till dusk, our voyage does bide.
Shakespeare's monkey types on a keyboard's keys,
Crafting the story of the swampman's brief existence;
Five philosophers sat along the side,
Debating the very heart of Carneades' ideas;
I flip through the dog-eared newspapers,
Reading the stories of days gone by.
Can the unconscious violinist survive to his later days?
Do the cows in the field still flash like fleeting stars?
Who uncovered the lies of the informant with the ticking bomb?
And who, in the excavation of Plato's cave?
All, it appears, has nothing that matters to me.
Einstein's light sweeps the window's glass,
I watch a rainbow form as time does pass.
The distant isle, where Laplace's Demon did reside,
Now dissipates in smoke, as worlds collide.
In that brief instance, reality's plight,
Blurs with a dream in the night.
Wittgenstein's Beetle appears in the mirror,
Zhuangzi's butterfly fulfils my paralogy.
All that exists,
Will eventually fade like vanishing mist and fog.
Chinese version:
思想实验
我搭乘着忒休斯之船,
阅尽千帆,思绪云骞。
寻找一个并不存在的答案。
薛定谔的猫与我为伴,
同住在船上的中文房间。
起早挂晚,年复一年。
莎士比亚的猴子敲打着键盘,
撰写沼泽人的似水流年;
五位闲散的哲学家在一旁就餐,
争论卡涅阿德斯的船板;
我翻开泛黄的报刊,
阅读昔日的街头巷言。
濒死的小提琴手能否撑到迟暮之年?
空地上的奶牛是否依然昙花一现?
是谁,破解了炸弹知情者的谎言?
又是谁,在开凿柏拉图的洞穴?
一切的一切,
仿佛都与我无关。
爱因斯坦的光线划过窗前,
我望着彩虹出现在天边。
远方孤岛上的拉普拉斯之妖已化为乌烟,
刹那间,我分不清现实与梦魇。
维特根斯坦的甲虫在镜中显现,
庄周的蝴蝶应验了关于我的寓言。
一切的一切,
都将云消雾散。
Creator
The tools are ready.
Where's your creation?
The right brain is screaming,
Time to unleash your imagination.
Let unconsciousness write prompts,
visions will display in your head.
Fine-tuned through many interactions,
Consciousness will manifest them in the world.
Dig into your thoughts,
and sort them out.
Synthese entire ideas,
and reclaim your lost radiance.
Accept the shamanistic gift,
never let your inside stories die passed.
You don't need to be perfect,
but please just be unique.
Sprint, Rest, Sprint, Rest...
Airpods in my ears,
Playing podcasts and music,
Hiding from the crowd.
Maybe I’ll go deaf,
But Beethoven composed music when he was deaf.
There is no excuse,
Sprint, rest, sprint, rest, and repeat.
Glasses on my eyes,
Ten hours a week on average,
Reading books.
Maybe I’ll go blind,
But Borges wrote books when he was blind.
There is no excuse,
Sprint, rest, sprint, rest, and repeat
Weights on my shoulders,
Running shoes ready,
Training every day.
Maybe I’ll suffer from injuries,
But Hawkins spread science to the masses in his wheelchair.
There is no excuse,
Sprint, rest, sprint, rest, and repeat.
Thoughts and ideas are everywhere,
Dreams and consciousness are interweaving.
Maybe I’ll lose my sanity,
But Nash created the game theory with schizophrenia.
There is no excuse,
Sprint, rest, sprint, rest, and repeat.
Ernest Hemingway risked his life at war,
It’s ok to be bold and adventurous;
Fernando Pessoa invented heteronyms to live and write,
It’s ok to be alone and unknown;
Nikki Lauda burnt his face and came back from the dead,
It’s ok to let your soul and work speak on your behalf.
Nothing has the power to stop what you do,
Just sprint, rest and repeat.
I take off everything I have,
And accept who I truly am.
It might be far beyond the reach of my ability to obtain such achievements,
But I promise myself never to give up,
And to remember,
Sprint, rest, sprint, rest and repeat.
Thank you ! highly resonant writing.