曾经，那些游吟诗人四处旅行，向世人兜售他们道听途说的故事。但现在，诗人却远离尘世，退回到他们内心最敏感的角落，那地方太脆弱，几乎承受不了一片雪花的重量。他用尽所有的力量，才能抵挡住风的声音。如果他捧起一把带着花香的泥土，就会感动得热泪盈眶。诗人的使命与其说是感伤世界，不如说是唤醒沉睡的灵魂。
Once, those troubadours traveled around, peddling their hearsay stories to common people.But now，the poet estrange himself from the earthliness.He retired to the most sensitive recesses of his heart which is too weak to bear the weight of a snowflake. With all strength, he is able to withstand the sound of the wind.If he scoops up a handful of scented earth,he would be moved to tears.The calling of a poet might be not so much about mourning over the world as waking the sleeping soul.
1.6.2021
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