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

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潇潇- 中国

命   数

潇潇 - 中国

 

 命数总是在掌纹上

翻卷起一次次风云

这一次，该拿谁的死，提前做赌注

 

沉住气，黑暗也变得如此亲切

半夜，我从书架上取出一部熟悉的诗歌

它的香味依旧，像一个老朋友

 

音乐从阿尔罕布拉宫的回忆中来临

重复着过去的时代

一场禁忌的游戏

 

犹如一次错误的情感

一段陈旧的句子，一些狂乱的字、词

尘埃落定，让人在某一个角落遗憾终身

 

在同样的孤单中

心儿却与从前不同

酸楚的物质像一场难退的高烧

热烘烘的，从体内渗透

我走进人群，触摸到另一片废墟

活生生的恐惧可以拯救或毁灭一个人

 

犹如神秘的历史

一滴水击碎了桌上的杯子

一声叹息冲垮了一个人内心的河堤

今天，这越来越靠不住的日子

会把我带到哪里

命数在手掌上，再一次疯狂

 

生与死在心灰意冷的时间中

一点一点交替

昨夜在变弱，缩小

最后衰竭，繁殖死亡之光

 

 

１９９４年４月４日于成都家中

 

 

 

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