Amanda, bostonese.com 专栏作家
Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

刘沂峰的独舞《秋忆》(邹新中摄)
我非常喜欢文德勒对这一段的解读。我曾经开玩笑说,读诗提前帮我解决了在“变老”这个不能逆转的过程中会出现的心理危机。
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