Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron
v

顾城 - Gu Cheng - جو تشنج

回家

顧城 - 中国


我看见你的手
在阳光下遮住眼睛
我看见你头发
被小帽遮住
我看见你手投下的影子
在笑
你的小车子放在一边
Sam
你不认识我了
我离开你太久的时间

我离开你
是因为害怕看你
我的爱
像玻璃
是因为害怕
在台阶上你把手伸给我

说:胖
你要我带你回家
在你睡着的时候
我看见你的眼泪
你手里握着的白色的花
我打过你
你说这是调皮的爹爹
你说:胖喜欢我
你什么都知道

Sam
你不知道我现在多想你
我们隔着大海
那海水拥抱着你的小岛
岛上有树外婆
和你的玩具
我多想抱抱你
在黑夜来临的时候

Sam
我要对你说一句话
Sam我喜欢你
这句话是只说给你的
再没有人听见
爱你,Sam
我要回家
你带我回家

你那么小
就知道了
我会回来
看你
把你一点一点举起来
Sam,你在阳光里
我也在阳光里

附注:此诗是顾城最后一首抒情新诗。
Sam为顾城独子,英文名为:Samuel muer.Gu。
胖是顾城乳名。儿子喜欢这样喊他。

 

 

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