写作有时候是为了回到过往。我常常回忆,但唯有写在纸上的文字才有穿越感,才能一次次带着你真切回到最初的世界里去。那时的世界是小的,小世界有着生命的亲密感,但更多的时候是无力感和荒芜感。在我的一些诗歌中,我多次写到母亲,《睡眠》是母亲逝世十六周年时写的一首诗歌。母亲离去多年,但她一直在心里,我甚至能感受到她的呼吸。在漫长的岁月,在无数个睡眠的梦乡里,我都能梦见与母亲一起生活。在梦里,欢喜的时光是短暂的,更多的时候像一个噩梦。在醒来时分,悲伤和外面的夜色一样动荡:那些夜雨总有闪电跪在远处的土地上。 Sometimes writing is to return to the past. I often recall, but only the words written on paper have a sense of crossing, in order to bring you back to the original world again and again. The world at that time was small, the small world had a sense of intimacy of life, but more often it was powerlessness and barrenness. In some of my poems, I wrote to my mother many times that “sleeping” was a poem written on the occasion of the sixteenth anniversary of her mother’s death. Mother left for many years, but she has been in my heart, I can even feel her breath. In the long years, countless sleeping dreams, I can dream of living with my mother. In the dream, the time of joy is short, more like a nightmare. On awakening, sadness is as volatile as the night outside: those rainy night always kneels in the distance with lightning.