Darling . I ‘m getting older. (亲爱的，我原来也会变老)

Everyday poetry.
Sippokni Sia

Winnie Lewis Gravitt

I am old, Sippokni sia. Before my eyes run many years, Like panting runners in a race. Like a weary runner, the years lag; Eyes grow dim, blind with wood smoke; A handkerchief binds my head, For I am old. Sippokni sia.Hands, once quick to weave and spin; Strong to fan the tanchi; Fingers patient to shape dirt bowls; Loving to sew hunting shirt; Now, like oak twigs twisted. I sit and rock my grandson. I am old. Sippokni sia.Feet swift as wind o’er young cane shoots; Like stirring leaves in ta falla dance; Slim like rabbits in leather shoes; Now moves like winter snows, Like melting snows on the Cavanaugh. In the door I sit, my feet in spring water. I am old. Sippokni sia.Black like crow’s feather, my hair. Long and straight like hanging rope; My people proud and young. Now like hickory ashes in my hair, Like ashes of old camp fire in rain. Much civilization bow my people; Sorrow, grief and trouble sit like blackbirds on fence. I am old. Sippokni sia hoke.
- 我不知道人们所说的衰老是什么样子的，也许是透过镜子发现曾经的皮肤已经松弛下垂，也许当他们发现他们跑不过一个最小的孩子，但我感觉衰老是发生在一瞬间，仅仅一瞬间，就像过了一辈子，只是从前漫长的岁月从未被老去的忧伤笼罩，就像山顶的雾终于散去，时间失去了从前的神秘。
- 告别，寻找告别
- 春天总是一去不返
- 无法思考，无法摆脱，3点，神秘力量，是……
Amy Lowell
- A enthralling person with all her persistence, intelligence , energy and fecundity. “ The god made me a business woman , but I made myself a poet .”
- The Garden by Moonlight
  BY AMY LOWELL
  
  A black cat among roses,
  
  Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,
  
  The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.
  
  The garden is very still,
  
  It is dazed with moonlight,
  
  Contented with perfume,
  
  Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.
  
  Firefly lights open and vanish
  
  High as the tip buds of the golden glow
  
  Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.
  
  Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises,
  
  Moon-spikes shafting through the snow ball bush.
  
  Only the little faces of the ladies’ delight are alert and staring,
  
  Only the cat, padding between the roses,
  
  Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern
  
  As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.
  
  Then you come,
  
  And you are quiet like the garden,
  
  And white like the alyssum flowers,
  
  And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies.
  
  Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies?
  
  They knew my mother,
  
  But who belonging to me will they know
  
  When I am gone.
A imagist poet as Pound . Some intellectual game when you read some volume of her you just feel like .

Sylvia Plath

At her most articulate, meditating on the nature of poetic inspiration, [Plath] is a controlled voice for cynicism, plainly delineating the boundaries of hope and reality. At her brutal best—and Plath is a brutal poet—she taps a source of power that transforms her poetic voice into a raving avenger of womanhood and innocence.

When I am dead , my dearest.

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

徐志摩的翻译也很美，似乎也是他有首诗的foutainhead.
Not a red rose or a satin heart.

Valentine

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

The More Loving One

BY W. H. AUDEN

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equally affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total dark sublime

Though this might take me a little time.

September 1957

今天读到的一首灵动的诗引用的那篇文章也写得很好
今天读完了那篇文章，很有趣，文笔也很优美，提到了很多有趣的idea，一个有趣的失恋者，哈哈，the more loving one . 在另一个世界会有不一样的几何，有不一样的命运，也许我们就能够在理智与爱的坐标上相遇
四月
四月适合叶赛宁，四月不适合我。（有点中二的发言 :)

Yesenin led an erratic, unconventional life that was punctuated by bouts of drunkenness and insanity. Before hanging himself in a Leningrad hotel, Yesenin slit his wrists, and, using his own blood, wrote a farewell poem.

Sergey Esenin I do not lament, call out, or cry…

I do not lament, call out, or cry.
All will pass like apple-blossom smoke.
Seized by golden glories of decay,
I shan’t see my youthful years come back.

You’ll no longer throb with equal passion,
Weary heart touched with a subtle chill;
Nor will you, green realm of birchen satin,
Lure me barefoot over dale and hill .

Vagrant spirit! Nowadays you scarcely
Stir these lips’ abiding secret blaze.
Ah, goodbye, my boyish effervescence,
Riot of eyes, and sentiments in spates!

I’ve become more frugal in my yearning.
My dear life, are you a dream where I
In the echoes of an early morning
Mount a rosy steed and gallop by?

We’re all mortal here without exception.
Maples shed their copper on the ground.
Blessed be, accept this benediction,
What has come to bloom and face its end.

一切终将逝去，如苹果花丛中的薄雾，金色的树叶堆满心间，我已不再是青春少年。打算试着翻译一些诗歌 : )

无论是什么我都必须不断地进行探索存在

环也许是存在的，但是并不妨碍探索本身。！！！！思考，想象力，好奇。

为什么Cowboy Bebop 是伟大的于我而言

因为有的只有最纯粹的故事。仅此而已，再无其他。

为何西语诗歌如此性感迷人

主角不多，不是玫瑰也不是流云，是你也是我，是某个男人，某个女人，是某段伤心的爱，是直面事实的激情，懊悔，是对生命最直接的参与。是在诗歌中的自白，自白中的诗歌。
努力使得自己的思想变得对人类有价值，就如同化石对于考古学家，即使不能留下完整的骨骼，也要努力使自己的屎变成化石。 goooood 今天想出来的笑话。 :)
上述观点有些武断，谨个人观点。————再读，看来十分武断，以后表述应当加上前缀我觉得，避免将事物描述成一种法则，给读者产生一种生硬的强加感。

村平

《电影的诞生》——村平的电影以及村平的电影观

为何叫村平，既有些像中文名，又有些像日文名，依次代表对我生命产生重要影响的中国与日本文化。同时村科研来自我的故乡，这也许暗示了我所具有的电影审美倾向。之后写的更多是单独的和本子记载的是互补的。
未来是否是最不需要关心的。专注于当下的一种思想观念。是否是我电影观的核心。那么我应该怎样使用我的镜头，故事，人，调度，取景，台词剧本，声音，感官

<再见四月>—— In my life , I love you more - 2024.4.30

May你好五月

五月关于三岛由纪夫，黑塞，列宁格勒牛仔和漫长的人生夏日
金阁寺无时无刻拓展”美”的定义？或许美失去褒义词的性质应当成为一种更为广泛的性质水手梦见陆地
西尔维娅费尔南多 we make it simple 。

佩索呀