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一以前我写诗有个习惯,没写出来的绝对保密,尤其是短诗,不是题材怕人剽窃,因为在我看来,这就叫酝酿,不在乎酿的是什么,而是时候未到,说出来整个容易变酸变质,所以是大忌。可这半月来,一首题为“白鹇”的诗是我一直想写的,只是至今还没写出来。为应付一份随笔约稿,索性就将这先有了题目但没写出来的东西拿出来说一说。《白鹇》这首未出现的诗让我着迷。它很有意思。当我还不知道它到底要写些什么的时候,它仿佛已经可以被一页页地翻开,一个字一个字,一行一行地排开。
I had a habit of writing poetry before, did not write out the absolute secrecy, especially short poems, not subject to fear of plagiarism, because in my opinion, this is brewing, regardless of what is brewing, but the time has not yet come Out of the whole easily sour metamorphosis, it is taboo. However, in the past half a month, a poem titled “Baizhi” is what I always wanted to write, but it has not been written yet. To cope with an essay on the draft, simply put something that had problems but did not write out to talk about it. I am fascinated by the unrecognized poem. It is very interesting. When I did not know exactly what it was going to write, it seemed to have been opened up page by page, word by word, and lined up row by row.