In my performances, there is always a poem within me. Sometimes the poem exists before the performance; sometimes it appears during the movement; sometimes it comes afterwards. It is an inner voice that accompanies the body through the performance.
For me, poetry is another world beyond reality. It is intuitive, soft, mysterious, and closer to the deepest layers of feeling and thought—those that cannot be fully expressed through ordinary language or other artistic media.
Through seemingly illogical words, images, fragments, and associations, something deeply true can emerge. Poetry does not explain reality; it opens another way of experiencing it. In this space between words, body, image, and silence, feelings can become visible and the world can appear more mysterious, tender, and beautiful.
《贝》
有多久了，
你沉睡在这里，
在水中
如此纯净，
没有杂音，
像一只贝，
蜷缩在自己的壳里，
一片寂静。
是什么时候，
你决定打开自己？
让那些沙砾，淤泥
涌入身体，
一次次，
冲刷你。
幸福、嫉妒、孤独——
你都想品尝。
你无所畏惧。
你将它们细细包裹，
一层，
又一层。
把疼痛、爱、恨
一点一点
织入自己的身体。
最后的最后——
什么东西，
在黑暗中
神奇的发光，
那么温柔，美丽
没有人知道
那是属于你的珍珠，
属于你的幸福
你的孤独。
The Shell
How long has it been,
you sleeping here,
in the water
so pure,
without noise,
like a shell,
curled inside your own shell,
a silence.
When was it
that you decided to open yourself?
Letting those grains of sand, mud
flow into your body,
again and again,
washing over you.
Happiness, jealousy, loneliness—
you want to taste them all.
You are fearless.
You carefully wrap them,
layer by layer,
again and again.
Weaving pain, love, hate
little by little
into your own body.
At the very end—
what is it
that in the darkness
mysteriously begins to glow,
so gentle, so beautiful
No one knows.
That is your pearl,
your happiness
your loneliness.
Die Muschel
Wie lange schon
schläfst du hier,
im Wasser
so rein,
ohne Geräusche,
wie eine Muschel,
in ihrer eigenen Schale zusammengerollt,
eine vollkommene Stille.
Wann war es,
dass du beschlossen hast,
dich zu öffnen?
Lässt Sandkörner, Schlamm
in deinen Körper strömen,
immer wieder,
spülen sie dich.
Glück, Eifersucht, Einsamkeit –
du willst sie alle kosten.
Du bist furchtlos.
Du umhüllst sie sorgfältig,
Schicht für Schicht,
immer wieder.
Du webst Schmerz, Liebe, Hass
Stück für Stück
in deinen eigenen Körper.
Ganz am Ende –
was ist es,
das in der Dunkelheit
auf geheimnisvolle Weise zu leuchten beginnt,
so sanft, so schön
Niemand weiß es.
Das ist deine Perle,
dein Glück
deine Einsamkeit.