墨の香り

i love words, language, expression so much

汪国真诗选

《背影》

总是很简单

简单

是一种风景

背影

总是很年轻

年轻

是一种清明

背影

总是很含蓄

含蓄

是一种魅力

背影

总是很孤零

孤零

更让人记得清

 

 

《热爱生命》

我不去想是否能够成功

既然选择了远方

便只顾风雨兼程

我不去想能否赢得爱情

既然钟情于玫瑰

就勇敢地吐露真诚

我不去想身后会不会袭来寒风冷雨

既然目标是地平线

留给世界的只能是背影

我不去想未来是平坦还是泥泞

只要热爱生命

一切,都在意料之中

 

 

《剪不断的情愫》

原想这一次远游

就能忘记你秀美的双眸

就能剪断

丝丝缕缕的情愫

和秋风也吹不落的忧愁

谁曾想到头来

山河依旧

爱也依旧

你的身影

刚在身后又到前头

 

 

《假如你不够快乐》

假如你不够快乐

也不要把眉头深锁

人生本来短暂

为什么还要栽培苦涩

打开尘封的门窗

让阳光雨露洒遍每个角落

走向生命的原野

让风儿熨平前额

博大可以稀释忧愁

深色能够覆盖浅色

 

 

《自爱》

你没有理由沮丧

为了你是秋日

彷惶

你也没有理由骄矜

为了你是春天

把头仰

秋色不如春光美

春光也不比秋色强

 

 

《思》

——题油画

只一个沉默的姿态

便足以让世界着迷

不仅因为是一尊圣洁

不仅因为是一片安谧

还因为是一面昭示

还因为是一个启迪

还因为她以现代人的形象

告诉我们

——沉思是一种美丽

 

 

《豪放是一种美德》

我从眼睛里

读懂了你

你从话语里

弄清了我

含蓄是一种性格

豪放是一种美德

别对我说

只有眼睛才是

心灵的真正折射

如果没有语言

我们在孤寂中

收获的只能是沉默

 

 

《跨越自己》

我们可以欺瞒别人

却无法欺瞒自己

当我们走向枝繁叶茂的五月

青春就不再是一个谜

向上的路

总是坎坷又崎岖

要永远保持最初的浪漫

真是不容易

有人悲哀

有人欣喜

当我们跨越了一座高山

也就跨越了一个真实的自己

 

 

《永恒的心》

岁月如水

流到什么地方

就有什么样的时尚

我们怎能苛求

世事与沧桑

永不改变的

是从不羞于见人的

真挚与善良

人心

无论穿什么样的衣裳

都会太不漂亮

 

 

《默默的情怀》

总有些这样的时候

正是为了爱

才悄悄躲开

躲开的是身影

躲不开的却是那份

默默的情怀

月光下踯躅

睡梦里徘徊

感情上的事情

常常说不明白

不是不想爱

不是不去爱

怕只怕

爱也是一种伤害

 

 

《但是,我更乐意》

为什么要别人承认我

只要路没有错

名利从来是鲜花

也是枷锁

无论什么成为结局

总难免兴味索然

流动的过程中

有一种永恒的快乐

尽管,我有时也祈求

有一个让生命辉煌的时刻

但是,我更乐意

让心灵宁静而淡泊

 

 

《我知道》

欢乐是人生的驿站

痛苦是生命的航程

我知道

当你心绪沉重的时候

最好的礼物

是送你一片宁静的天空

你会迷惘

也会清醒

当夜幕低落的时候

你会感受到

有一双温暖的眼睛

我知道

当你拭干面颊上的泪水

你会灿然一笑

那时,我会轻轻对你说

走吧你看

槐花正香月色正明

 

 

《旅行》

凡是遥远的地方

对我们都有一种诱惑

不是诱惑于美丽

就是诱惑于传说

即使远方的风景

并不尽如人意

我们也无需在乎

因为这实在是一个

迷人的错

仰首是春俯首是秋

愿所有的幸福都追随着你

月圆是画月缺是诗

 

 

《祝愿》

——写给友人生日

因为你的降临

这一天

成了一个美丽的日子

从此世界

便多了一抹诱人的色彩

而我记忆的画屏上

更添了许多

美好的怀念似锦如织

我亲爱的朋友

请接受我深深的祝愿

愿所有的欢乐都陪伴着你

到远方去到远方去

熟悉的地方没有景色

 

 

《倘若才华得不到承认》

倘若才华得不到承认

与其诅咒不如坚忍

在坚忍中积蓄力量

默默耕耘

诅咒无济于事

只能让原来的光芒黯淡

在变得黯淡的光芒中

沦丧的更有大树的精神

飘来的是云

飘去的也是云

既然今天

没人识得星星一颗

那么明日

何妨做皓月一轮

 

 

《如果生活不够慷慨》

如果生活不够慷慨

我们也不必回报吝啬

何必要细细的盘算

付出和得到的必须一般多

如果能够大方

何必显得猥琐

如果能够潇洒

何必选择寂寞

获得是一种满足

给予是一种快乐

 

 

 

《我把小船划向月亮》

请不要责怪

有时会离群索居

要知道

孤独也需要勇气

别以为有一面旗帜

在前方哗啦啦地招展

后面就一定会有我的步履

我不崇拜

我不理解的东西

我把小船划向月亮

就这样划呵

把追求和独立连在一起

把生命和自由连在一起

 

 

《许诺》

不要太相信许诺

许诺是时间结出的松果

松果尽管美妙

谁能保证不会被季节打落

机会,凭自己争取

命运,靠自己把握

生命是自己的画板

为什么要依赖别人着色

 

 

《选择》

你的路

已经走了很长很长

走了很长

可还是看不到风光

看不到风光

你的心很苦很彷徨

没有风帆的船

不比死了强

没有罗盘的风帆

只能四处去流浪

如果你是鱼不要迷恋天空

如果你是鸟不要痴情海洋

 

 

《给友人》

不站起来

才不会倒下

更何况

我们要去浪迹天涯

跌倒是一次纪念

纪念是一朵温馨的花

寻找管什么日月星辰

跋涉分什么春秋冬夏

我们就这样携着手

走呵走呵

你说,看到大海的时候

你会舒心的笑

是呵是呵

我们的笑能挽住云霞

可是,我不知道

当我们想笑的时候

会不会

却是潸然泪下

 

 

《叠纸船的女孩》

他长大了

认识了一个

喜欢叠纸船的女孩

那个女孩喜欢海

喜欢海岸金黄的沙滩

喜欢在黄昏里的沙滩漫步

有一天

那个女孩漫步

走进了他家的门口

晚上,妈妈问他

是不是有个女孩子来过了

他回答说

没有,没有呵

妈妈一笑

问那个纸船是谁叠的

A selection from “Three Songs at the End of Summer”

A white, indifferent morning sky,
and a crow, hectoring from its nest
high in the hemlock, a nest as big
as a laundry basket….
                                        In my childhood
I stood under a dripping oak,
while autumnal fog eddied around my feet,
waiting for the school bus
with a dread that took my breath away.

The damp dirt road gave off
this same complex organic scent.

I had my new books—words, numbers
and operations with numbers I did not
comprehend—and crayons unspoiled
by use, in a blue canvas satchel
with red leather straps.

Spruce, inadequate, and alien,
I stood at the side of the road.
It was the only life I had.

A selection from “Three Songs at the End of Summer” by Jane Kenyon, from Collected Poems. © Graywolf Press, 2005.

Going Away

Now as the year turns toward its darkness
the car is packed, and time come to start
driving west. We have lived here
for many years and been more or less content;
now we are going away. That is how
things happen, and how into new places,
among other people, we shall carry
our lives with their peculiar memories
both happy and unhappy but either way
touched with a strange tonality
of what is gone but inalienable, the clear
and level light of a late afternoon
out on the terrace, looking to the mountains,
drinking with friends. Voices and laughter
lifted in still air, in a light
that seemed to paralyze time.
We have had kindness here, and some
unkindness; now we are going on.
Though we are young enough still
And militant enough to be resolved,
Keeping our faces to the front, there is
A moment, after saying all farewells,
when we taste the dry and bitter dust
of everything that we have said and done
for many years, and our mouths are dumb,
and the easy tears will not do. Soon
the north wind will shake the leaves,
the leaves will fall. It may be
never again that we shall see them,
the strangers who stand on the steps,
smiling and waving, before the screen doors
of their suddenly forbidden houses.

“Going Away” by Howard Nemerov, from New Poems. © University of Chicago Press, 1981.

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

~Theodore Roethke

Enough

It’s a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you’ve never said circling inside you.
It’s the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go
.

 

Jeffrey Harrison

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

 

William Butler Yeats

Four Quartets

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.

 

TS Eliot

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

— David Whyte
from The House of Belonging
©1996 Many Rivers Press

Blessing the Boats

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

I Am Running into a New Year

i am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twenty-six and thirty-six
even thirty-six but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me

– Lucille Clifton