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二十几年前,我偶然间读到一首名叫《对弈》的诗,它不仅给予我诸多意外的联想,还吸引着我后来一直去探求这位诗人的更多作品。从表面上看,这首诗似乎是写一场棋局,诗人写自己在其中始终与一个对手抗衡着、相持着,互有胜负,而且还欲罢不能。但整个场景中,诗人从头到尾都并没有交代自己究竟在与谁对弈,这种模糊性恰恰与我一直认同的朦胧之美所暗合,诗中的“他”究竟是谁,读者可以自己用想象去求索:我移动一个白色的日子,/他移动一个
Twenty years ago, I happened to read a poem titled “The Game,” which not only gave me many unexpected associations, but also attracted more works that I went on to explore the poet. On the surface, the poem seems to be a game of chess, in which the poet writes he always has to contend with an opponent, hold on to each other, win over each other, and have no choice but to stop. However, throughout the scene, the poet did not explain exactly who she was playing against. The fuzziness just coincides with the hazy beauty I have always agreed upon. Who is the “he” in the poem, and the reader can himself Search by imagination: I move a white day, / he moves one