Ring Story is the most poetic sci-fi drama I've seen in recent years. So far, as an unknown poet, I have written a small poem for each of its episodes, and finally formed a circular picture.
The "you" in the poem has a different identity in each episode of the ring world, but I don't intend to confuse the plot, I just prefer to imagine "you" as every you in the real world.
You have been a helpless child, a busy mother, a taciturn father, a speechless machine, an empty forest, and a shining star. You are you and not you. You are a memory flowing through all things, but also a fleeting fireworks. I think that one day we will all find ourselves in the proposition of knowing love, death and eternity.
The understanding and perception of the play are already in the poem. Of course, there is no need to repeat the criticisms of this play. I am well aware of my ignorance and my awe of poetic language at all times. If there is something unsatisfactory in the poem, look to Haihan.
Ring Story | Wooden Words
Your mother leaves without saying goodbye
Years later, you will be a mother too, smearing the pain of the past into a dream
until you met your childhood
2. The moment you wake up from the dream, you lost your body and fell into aphasia. The cobweb of friendship
Forest phantom soul pure
3. The Eternity You Escape Into Moment All Things Still Fall In Love With Him Forget Him
The moment the bracelet fell, I was lonely
Four you cry to the empty abyss of time, count the echoes of destiny with your little finger
"Grandpa, where have you been?"
A touch of nothingness flashes like a firefly in your dream
death is our school
Five borrow the arm of the machine to disguise your cowardice and sleepless nights just to protect the lost dignity
But how to lay down arms, how to protect and take up arms, how to embrace
6. There are two perfect lovers in another time and space.
Showers. Birds crossed the forest of desire, I wash away my thoughts
leave you approach you
Do seven robots dream? The snake of yesterday is swallowing your young arm
Frightened, leaving five-finger marks on tree trunks
Your body is like an ant's nest, your eyes are hollow, your soul is dim
"Are you a robot?" the girl asked
You sail to the uninhabited island and your other self, light a wildfire
The eight temples are dyed with white frost, the moment you press the shutter, your tears will not stop
wait. Waiting is a withered library card and a patient pine cone
Glaciers fall into a dream, time flies by your child's footsteps soaking your memories
In the blink of an eye you are back to your childhood Xueluo Wuhen
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