钟表里有一只鸟,注视着转动的发条,钟摆在腹下摇摆。它思考着,从不鸣叫,它是另一种时间,此刻被我发现,此刻我在写诗。作为诗人,你在思索什么,又试图传达什么,都将是一个通灵者在人间的途。天问与垂吟,布设周身的孤独与内心的洪流,一个写诗的人怕的是无病呻吟,更怕作为患者不可遏制的悲鸣。除了自我审视,还要自我克制,诗人的热力一定会成为一个自我中心,但也一定要作为旁观者冷静的存在。 There was a bird in the clock, watching the clockwork turning and the pendulum swinging in the belly. It pondered, never tweeting, it was another time, I was found at the moment, and now I am writing poetry. As a poet, what you are thinking, but also trying to convey what will be a psychic way in the world. Heaven asked and chanting, laying the whole body of the loneliness and inner torrent, a person who wrote poetry is afraid of groaning, more afraid as a patient can not contain the grief. In addition to self-examination, but also self-restraint, the poet’s heat will certainly become a self-centered, but also must be calm as onlookers.