青春的物语

 

 

文/安然

 

青春的物语

停歇在你大眼睛的那束清亮之上，

你为什么不……

我久久退却，

你的哀怨在记忆的阴影里

再次照亮我。

 

我不曾用甜言蜜语喂养过的早衰的时代，

花朵般的吻

不属于我。

那时的底色是十英寸的单调与灰暗，

饥馑的感觉并未远离，

而恐惧

以真理之名，

站在黄绿色的卡车上在市区游荡。

我们相逢的课桌，

刻满我所不思议的语言。

 

脱缰的绿意

所误入的铅灰的一角，

试图同古老的血液对话：

“你是三桓之后！”

槐花的笑声缀满斗兽场的虚空，

在那个夏日，

在那个笨拙的黎明。

 

溃散

如命数一样如约到来，

拣选

是众神对人的

第一场行刑、

第一次枪杀。

你为什么将槐花掷向那张死亡之网？

你知道：

理智像狼群

在黑暗里窥伺。

 

Youth's Tale

by An Ran

 

Youth's tale
comes to rest upon the clear brightness in your large eyes.
Why didn’t you…
I retreat for a long, long time,
and your sorrow, in the shadows of memory,
lights me up once again.

 

I never fed the prematurely aged era with sweet words,
flower-like kisses
do not belong to me.
The base color of those days was ten inches of monotony and gray,
the feeling of famine never far away,
and fear,
in the name of truth,
stood on yellow-green trucks, roaming the city streets.
The desk where we met
was carved with words I could never have imagined.

 

The runaway greenness
that strayed into this lead-gray corner,
tried to converse with ancient blood:
“You are a descendant of the Three Huans!”
The laughter of locust flowers filled the void of the amphitheater,
on that summer day,
in that clumsy dawn.

 

Disintegration
arrived as punctually as fate.
Selection
was the gods’ first execution upon man,
the first shooting.
Why did you throw the locust flowers toward that net of death?
You knew:
reason is like a pack of wolves,
lurking in the darkness.

Chant on the Mountaintop

 

By An Ran

 

Rising with effort in the sun’s blazing flames,
stumbling in the mottled darkness beneath the cliff,
carefully stepping around a collapsed old dream—
even the last divine power
could not protect the ten-directional monastery.

 

On the empty cliff-top,
like Maudgalyayana holding up his alms bowl,
it receives the heavy burdens of a middle-aged heart.
Eyes closed, I recite
that primal revelation,
once,
twice—
the green wind in the valley
recites with me
this green scripture.

 

When I open my eyes,
I find myself facing the great hall carved into the mountainside.
Is the warrior who subdues all afflictions also listening?
Whether in Sanskrit or in Arabic,
what we chant
is nothing more than
a tablet of paracetamol
in the high fever of life.

 

 

山顶的吟唱

 

文/安然

 

在太阳的光焰里奋力上升，

在幽暗斑驳的山崖下

踯躅，

小心地绕过一个倾圮的旧梦，

最后的神通

也护不住十方丛林。

 

空无一人的崖顶，

如目连擎起的钵盂，

收留中年人的心事重重。

闭目诵念

那最初的启示，

一遍、

两遍，

山谷间碧绿的风声，

和我一起诵念

这绿色的经文。

 

睁开眼时，

发现遥对着那座依山开凿的大雄宝殿。

那位降伏一切烦恼的勇士也在倾听吗？

无论梵文还是回文，

我们吟唱的，

都不过是高热人生里的

一片扑热息痛。

 

汇入红尘

 

 

文/安然

 

汇入红尘，

无数沉默在逆流顺流。

几辈子的漩涡与浪花，

一时淤塞了老城

苦涩的嘴。

像十公里外

那条坏脾气的母亲河。

 

每个路口

都在喘息；

每次拐弯

都是选择了一个人的华容道。

生命跌跌撞撞，

命运趁机推推搡搡；

若无一点执念，

如何抵抗这份汹涌纵横的荒凉？

 

老阳端在天上，

斜睨着空旷的饭堂。

对桌的老头手机没电，

也端了一碗胡辣汤。

兀立闹市，

寻到的这家网红店煞是出人意料。

 

几个胖大的老太太一身面粉白，

玻璃厨间忙进忙出，

将笸箩筐里的牛肉煎包

又给打了下，

烫手、流油。

味道与眼神，

似乎不像远在大河之南，

倒像藏在回民巷道里的

旧粮店。

 

开口就直抵心事：

回回家的味道都差不多！

似乎不用告白，

那命一般的戒律

就刻在脸上。

 

 

Merging into the Red Dust

By An Ran

 

Merging into the red dust,
countless silences drift against the current or with it.
Vortices and spray from lifetimes past
suddenly silt up the old city’s
bitter mouth.
Like the bad-tempered Mother River
ten kilometers away.

 

Every intersection
is gasping for breath;
every turn
is choosing one’s own Huarong Path alone.
Life stumbles and collides,
while fate seizes the chance to shove and push;
without a shred of stubborn obsession,
how can one resist this surging, boundless desolation?

 

The old sun hangs high in the sky,
squinting at the empty dining hall.
Across the table, an old man whose phone has died
also holds a bowl of spicy pepper soup.
Standing alone in the bustling city,
this unexpectedly found trendy shop surprises us.

 

Several stout old ladies, covered in white flour,
bustle in and out of the glass kitchen,
Cooking once more on the beef pancakes
in the woven baskets—
scalding hot, dripping with oil.
The taste and the look in their eyes
seem not to belong to the south of the great river,
but rather to an old grain shop
hidden deep in a Hui Muslim alley.

 

One sentence goes straight to the heart:
“The taste of going home is always about the same!”
It seems no confession is needed—
that fate-like commandment
is already carved into their faces.

Hoe

 

by Anran

 

The first time I swung the hoe,
I planted irises.
Two rows of green seedlings,
two shallow furrows in the hard soil.

 

The clumsy blade drew strange cloud-script in the air,
stroke after stroke.
The earth remained stubborn and silent.
What was being cut open, inch by inch,
were secrets buried twenty years ago in the old factory grounds—
wisps of high-density polyethylene,
red and white,
drifting,
like irreconcilable old grudges.
This land, guarded by its city god,
harbors a terrible barrenness.

 

Life will be planted in this barrenness.
The hoe must go downward,
then pull backward,
and only then can the waist and abdomen straighten with tension.
Whether fragile or strong,
the course of life is probably just like this.

 

 

锄头

 

文/安然

 

第一次挥动锄头，

种的是鸢尾。

两排青苗，

硬土上的两道浅沟。

 

锄刃笨拙地在空中

画着诡异的云篆，

一下下，

土地倔强而沉默。

那一寸寸被割伤的

是二十年前旧厂区埋葬的秘密，

一缕缕高密度的聚乙烯，

红的白的，

飘零，

如同永难和解的积怨。

此方城隍收纳的，

是可怕的贫瘠。

 

生命将被种在这贫瘠里。

锄头需要向下，

然后向后拉，

最后才是立起绷紧的腰腹。

无论柔弱或刚强，

大概，生命的历程莫不如是。

小隐

 

 

文/安然

 

城市的茧衣

层层包裹，

紧致、窒息，

要瘦，

一直瘦，

最好瘦成一条线！

才能像坝上的荠菜，

挤在嘻嘻哈哈的同族之中，

眺望对岸的故乡。

 

村庄死得如此彻底，

连墓碑上也没记录它古老的姓氏。

乱坟岗边，

一个失地的妇人认得野菜，就像认得

她全部的亲戚：

婆婆纳、播娘蒿、麦瓶草……

都上楼了，

就在大桥的左边。

Qing Dynasty Officials Using the Da Ming Code to Adjudicate Cases

 

 

By Cui Haoxin

 

The idea of Qing Dynasty officials using the Da Ming Code to decide cases sounds utterly absurd, something that would only appear in one of Liu Baorui’s long, hilarious xiangsheng routines.

I admit, that line was something I made up—it’s rather disrespectful to the magistrates of the Great Qing. It’s likely that even the most muddle-headed and incompetent bureaucrats back then wouldn’t have dared commit such an outrageous act of defiance.

Yet in reality, I am personally experiencing something equally bizarre: a current case being handled by citing a version of the law that has already expired.

On April 29, 2025, I was assaulted at my doorstep. This was the second assault I’ve suffered since being released from criminal detention (which lasted over a month) in the “Qingzhen Poetry Case” in 2020.

After nearly a year of investigation and review, the Lixia District Branch of the Jinan Municipal Public Security Bureau issued an administrative penalty decision on March 16, 2026 [Ligong (Dongguan) Xingfa Juezi (2026) No. 426].

Far from accepting my claim of legitimate self-defense, this decision imposed 9 days of administrative detention and a fine of 400 yuan—exactly what I had anticipated. Following my lawyer’s advice to exhaust all legal remedies, I applied for administrative reconsideration, which gave me the chance to closely examine this legal document.

Right away, I noticed that the decision incorrectly stated my ethnicity: I am Hui (Muslim Chinese), but it was recorded as Han.

Then came the real shock: this administrative penalty decision dated 2026 cited the Public Security Administration Punishments Law of the People’s Republic of China as revised in 2012.

The Public Security Administration Punishments Law of the People’s Republic of China was revised in 2025 and officially took effect on January 1, 2026 (the new law, for the first time in the public security domain, established a system of legitimate self-defense, breaking the old notion that “fighting back equals mutual assault”—something I had genuinely hoped for). This means that, from that date onward, all newly occurring or ongoing public security cases must be handled in accordance with this newly revised law. The principle of legal application is that “the new law prevails over the old law.” The 2012 version became invalid upon the new law’s entry into force. Therefore, public security organs, when enforcing the law, must cite the currently effective legal provisions. Continuing to cite the expired 2012 version violates legal regulations and constitutes a procedural error. Issuing an administrative penalty decision that applies an already invalid legal version to a current case is as ridiculous and laughable as Qing Dynasty officials using the Da Ming Code to handle cases.

An administrative penalty decision typically goes through multiple stages—handling, review, approval, and so on. For such an obvious mistake as citing an invalid law to slip through every layer and end up in the hands of the party concerned shows serious negligence across the entire process, from the case handler to the reviewers. It reveals a complete lack of the most basic reverence and prudence toward the power they hold. The internal legal review and supervision mechanisms of the law enforcement agency, as people commonly suspect, have utterly failed to function.

Such an unlawful administrative penalty not only infringes on the legitimate rights and interests of the party involved but also further erodes the already much-questioned credibility of government authority.

I hope that superior departments and disciplinary inspection organs will intervene to deliver justice for me.

清朝的官用《大明律》断案

 

文/崔浩新

 

像清朝的官用《大明律》断案这种事，听起来就匪夷所思，似乎只会发生在刘宝瑞的长篇爆笑相声里。

我承认，这句话是我编的，对大清朝的清知府们实在有所不敬。估计当时的官僚再颟顸无能，也断不敢行此大逆不道之事。

可在现实中，我却在亲历一件引用已失效的法律版本处理现行案件的咄咄怪事。

2025年4月29日，我在家门口被人袭击。这是我自2020年“清真诗案”(近月余的刑事拘留)出狱以来，第二次遭遇袭击。

济南市公安局历下区分局经过近一年的侦查、审理，最终在2026年3月16日做出一份行政处罚决定书[历公(东关)行罚决字(2026)426号]。

这份决定书，非但没有支持我正当防卫的辩护，而且给予了9日行政拘留和四百元罚款的处罚，这在我预料之中。本着用尽法律救济途径的精神，律师建议我申请行政复议，这也给了我仔细审视这份法律文书的机会。

首先，我第一眼就发现该法律文书写错了我的民族身份，我是回族人，它写成了汉族。

再接下来，我发现，这份2026年的行政处罚决定书引用的是2012年修订的《中华人民共和国治安管理处罚法》。

《中华人民共和国治安管理处罚法》已于2025年修订，并于2026年1月1日起正式施行(新法首次在治安领域确立了正当防卫制度，打破了“还手即互殴”的旧观念，我本对此存有希望)。这意味着，自该日期起，所有新发生的或正在处理的治安案件，都应当以这部新修订的法律作为执法依据。法律的适用遵循“新法优于旧法”的原则。2012年的版本已经随着新法的生效而失效。因此，公安机关在执法过程中，必须引用现行有效的法律条文。继续引用已失效的2012年版本，不符合法律规定，属于程序错误。[历公(东关)行罚决字(2026)426号]决定书引用已失效的法律版本处理现行的案件，就如同清朝的官引用《大明律》办案一般，荒唐可笑。

一份行政处罚决定书通常需要经过承办、审核、审批等多个环节。引用失效法律这种如此明显的错误能够“过关斩将”最终落到当事人手上，说明从案件承办人到审核人，整个流程都存在严重的疏忽，对手中的权力缺乏最基本的敬畏和审慎态度，执法机关内部的法制审核和监督机制就像人们通常怀疑的那样，完全没有发挥作用。

这样一份不合法的行政处罚不仅侵犯了当事人的合法权益，还进一步侵蚀了备受质疑的政府公信力。

我希望上级部门和纪检监察机关能予以介入，还我公道。

 

 

赞美诗

 

文/安然

 

收回藏在心中的冷言冷语，

收回孤寂时的怨恨，

我赞美瓦砾间覆满白灰的身体！

对正在上演的残暴剧集,

我啧啧称叹：

凶险的剧本、

逼真的布景、

无限量供应的血浆,

以及宏大如同末日审判的废墟！

伟大的王，您正创造一个新世界。

请原谅我不争气的手指从屏幕上

划走一声声哭泣，

划走一张张扭曲的面孔。

我无任何不敬，

只是缺乏您的勇气。

即便，血月！

发狂的天心升起——

也不能令您的炎湖之杯

产生一丝丝寒意。

 

我已不敢对不幸者垂泪。

因为，为不幸

我已流下过量的泪水；

我已不敢向被围困者伸出手臂,

因为那座围城之中

也有我；

我已不再为正义发声，

因为我不想再一次

被三十枚金币所叛卖。

 

当圣书记载过的土地

被死神犁过，

我也怀疑父的言：

那块埋葬施洗者约翰头颅的土地,

那块杀死所有男婴的土地。

希律王再一次复活，

吻着凯撒鞋上的征尘。

 

无论对东方还是西方，

我都熄灭了精神，

只剩下慢慢干枯的卑怯

和蜂箱内无休无止的黑暗赞美！

 

Hymn of Praise
By Anran  

I retract the cold words hidden in my heart,
I retract the resentment of lonely hours,
I praise the body covered in white ash amidst the rubble!
For the brutal drama now unfolding,
I marvel with acclaim:
The treacherous script,
The lifelike scenery,
The endless supply of blood,
And the grandiose ruins, as if heralding the Last Judgment!
Great King, you are creating a new world.
Forgive my feeble fingers
For swiping away the cries,
For swiping away the contorted faces from the screen.
I mean no disrespect,
Only that I lack your courage.
Even the blood moon—
The frenzied heart of heaven rising—
Cannot cast a trace of chill
Upon your fiery lake’s chalice.  

I no longer dare shed tears for the unfortunate,
For I have wept too much for misfortune;
I no longer dare extend my arms to the besieged,
For within that encircled city,
I, too, am trapped;
I no longer speak for justice,
For I fear being betrayed once more
By thirty pieces of gold.  

When the land recorded in holy scriptures
Is plowed by the Reaper,
I, too, doubt the Father’s words:
That land where the head of John the Baptist was buried,
That land where all male infants were slain.
Herod rises again,
Kissing the dust on Caesar’s shoes.  

Be it East or West,
My spirit has been extinguished,
Leaving only the slow withering of cowardice
And the ceaseless dark praise within the beehive!  

 

lahi Övgü
Yazar: Anran  

Kalbimde saklı soğuk sözleri geri alıyorum,
Yalnızlık anındaki kini geri alıyorum,
Molozlar arasında beyaz külle kaplı bedeni övüyorum!
Şu anda sahnelenen vahşi dram için
Hayranlıkla şaşırıyorum:
Tehlikeli senaryo,
Gerçekçi dekor,
Sınırsız kan stoğu,
Ve kıyamet gününün yargısı gibi görkemli harabeler!
Büyük Kral, sen yeni bir dünya yaratıyorsun.
Lütfen, utanç verici parmaklarımın
Ekran üzerinden ağlamaları silmesini bağışla,
Buruşmuş yüzleri silmesini bağışla.
Hiçbir saygısızlık kastetmiyorum,
Sadece senin cesaretin bende yok.
Yine de, kanlı ay!
Çıldırmış gökyüzü yüreği yükseldiğinde—
Bu, senin alev gölü kadehinde
Hiçbir soğukluk yaratamaz.  

Artık talihsizler için ağlamaya cesaret edemiyorum.
Çünkü, talihsizlik için
Zaten fazlasıyla gözyaşı döktüm;
Artık kuşatılmışlara elimi uzatmaya cesaret edemiyorum,
Çünkü o kuşatılmış şehirde
Ben de varım;
Artık adalet için sesimi yükseltmiyorum,
Çünkü bir kez daha
Otuz gümüş para tarafından ihanete uğramak istemiyorum.  

Kutsal kitaplarda yazılmış topraklar
Ölüm tarafından sürülünce,
Babanın sözlerini de şüpheye düşüyorum:
Vaftizci Yahya’nın kafasının gömüldüğü o toprak,
Tüm erkek bebeklerin öldürüldüğü o toprak.
Herod tekrar dirildi,
Sezar’ın ayakkabılarındaki tozu öpüyor.  

Doğu’ya da Batı’ya da,
Ruhumu söndürdüm,
Sadece yavaşça kuruyan korkaklık
Ve arı kovanı içindeki durmaksızın karanlık övgü kaldı!  

 

ديح التمجيد
بقلم: أنران  

أسترجع الكلمات الباردة المخبأة في قلبي،
أسترجع الحقد من أوقات الوحدة،
أمجد الجسد المغطى بالرماد الأبيض وسط الأنقاض!
للدراما الوحشية التي تعرض الآن،
أعبر عن إعجابي بتأمل:
سيناريو خطير،
ديكور واقعي،
كميات لا نهائية من البلازما الدموية،
وحطام عظيم كما لو كان يوم الحساب!
يا ملك عظيم، أنت تخلق عالمًا جديدًا.
ارجوك، اغفر لأصابعي الضعيفة
التي تمحو بكاءات من الشاشة،
تمحو وجوهًا مشوهة.
لا أقصد أي اهانة،
بل أنني أفتقر إلى شجاعتك.
حتى وإن كان القمر الدموي!
عندما ترتفع قلب السماء المتوحش—
لا يمكن أن يخلق أي برودة
في كأس بحيرتك النارية.  

لم أعد أجرؤ على البكاء على المعانين.
لأنني، من أجل المعاناة
لقد سالت دموعًا زائدة؛
لم أعد أجرؤ على مد يدي للمحاصرين،
لأن في تلك المدينة المحاصرة
أنا أيضًا موجود؛
لم أعد أرفع صوتي من أجل العدالة،
لأنني لا أريد أن أُخون مرة أخرى
بثلاثين قطعة من الفضة.  

عندما تُحرث الأراضي المسجلة في الكتب المقدسة
بيد الموت،
أشكك أيضًا في كلام الآب:
تلك الأرض التي دُفن فيها رأس يحيى المعمدان،
تلك الأرض التي قُتل فيها جميع الأطفال الذكور.
هيرودس يعود للحياة مرة أخرى،
يقبل غبار حذاء قيصر.  

سواء في الشرق أو الغرب،
أطفأت روحي،
بقيت فقط الجبن الذي يجف تدريجيًا
والمديح المظلم الذي لا يتوقف داخل خلية النحل!