I hang the winter coats

in the wardrobe， fold the summer shorts

into the drawer.

I wrap the polished white shoes

patiently in toilet paper，

placing them by the sunny window to dry.

I tap the discount eggs

against the rim of the white porcelain bowl，

invert the washed wine glass on the tray.

I forget the bitten apple in the kitchen，

the exposed flesh

quietly bruising with time.

I pile the mail-order books on the sofa，

their intact plastic wrappers

casting the last rays into the mirror.

By day， I scroll through news on the phone，

suspecting that my life experience

is insufficient for understanding today¡¯s world.

At night， I lie on the wooden bed，

hearing drunken youths in the near distance

yelling out their pain.

In dreams， I return from a long journey

and fish for my key at the door， feeling

there is still a me living inside.

獨身生活

我将秋冬季的上衣

挂在柜子里，将夏季短裤

叠放在抽屉中

我将刷过的白鞋

用卫生纸耐心包裹起来

放到窗边晾晒

我将打折的鸡蛋

敲在白瓷碗的边缘

将洗过的酒杯倒扣在托盘

我将咬过的苹果忘在厨房

那裸露的果肉

在时间中安静地淤青

我将网购的新书堆满沙发

那未被撕开的塑封

会将晚霞反射到镜中

白天，我刷手机新闻

怀疑自己的经验

不足以理解当今世界

夜里，我躺在木床上

听到不远处喝醉的青年

喊着他们的痛苦

梦中，我远行回来

在门口取出钥匙，我感觉

仍有一个我在里面生活

Xia Chao 夏超

Born in 1989， Xia Chao is a poet and poetry translator who dabbles in fiction and photography. He won Peking University’s Weiming Poetry Prize in 2010， and spent a year as a volunteer teacher in rural Burqin county， northern Xinjiang， which became the inspiration of his 2012 poetry collection Remote Land（《一边疆》）. His other collection， Verses from the Ocean（《海上书》）is a self-selected anthology of his works between 2012 and 2016. Readers can find Xia’s latest work on Douban and on his WeChat account， remote_land.