心中的诗人,一定要有一头飘逸的发,没有油光,不打绺也不带卷。不要以为我是信口而言,我心中的诗人就该是这个样子。抛去书生头上那块誊写了“四书五经”的厚实方巾,洗去屡屡名落孙山后的意志消沉；丢开士大夫头上那顶刻满了“三纲五常”的乌纱帽,抹去怀才不遇时的愤愤不平,诗人浪迹天涯,笑看 The poet in his heart must have a flowing hair, no shine, no war, no roll. Don’t think that I’m talking about it. The poet in my heart should be like this. Throw away the thick kerchief that wrote the “Four Books and Five Classics” on the head of the scholar, and wash away the will of many people who lost their names after they fell; the disgraced hats on the top of the doctor’s husband’s head were encrusted with the “three principles and five constants”, erasing the indignant feelings when they were not met. The poet wanders and laughs