在夜莺栖息的枝头,繁花似锦的树冠上,
他也曾仰面躺下,做着梦。
诗人不会说谎,
只告诉你,那梦里轻抵双唇的指尖,
他不记得,是不是来自你的温暖。
你爱上这位诗人了吗?
有生之年,他只为你淋过一场雨,
为你写过很多首注定吟诵千年的诗,
可写诗的时候他都正和你海角天涯。
他会将情话潦草的写满整张信纸,
你吻遍他的字迹,感受笔下的余温。
诗人将诗看做生命,你将他看做生命,
诗人感激你的爱,因为你爱他,不是因为他的诗。
秋天来临的时候,他不得不离开了。
壁炉的火劈啪作响
Bright Star
John Keats
Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.
灿亮的星
灿亮的星啊,但愿我能如你坚定——
但并非孤独地在夜空闪烁高悬,
睁着一双永不合拢的眼睛,
犹如苦修的隐士彻夜无眠,
凝视海水冲洗尘世的崖岸,
好似牧师行施净体的沐浴,
或正俯瞰下界的荒原与群山
《明亮的星》今日份Brunch 伯劳恩糖水铺的红豆粥
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