摊在心中圣殿般的诗坛,一步回头再三
颤动的手指伴随心跳加速热汗蒸腾
学写诗词方知比读诗来得艰难
犹行走在荆棘茂密的丛林无边无光
象尝青綠桃子的苦涩泼酸痛入神经
磕磕撞撞拔牙般牙牙字字带血
把心中的钟情怯愫抒入几句坦露心扉摊在心中圣殿般的诗坛
象初恋炽热诚道句晚安
一步回头再三
视野迷朦却清晰亲切现在心间
祈望大师的指引
也好生见几个同道中人的点赞
心花朵朵色彩斑阑
缟织她得意诗人的桂冠
点缀她灵魂孤叶般漂泊苍白如纸的人生
(“I am convinced that most people do not grow up … our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.” The Hall of Fame Poet Maya Angelou, who would've been 91 today, once wrote this beautiful letter to the daughter she never had.)
In English:
Trembling fingers with heartbeat, hot sweating
It’s harder to learn to write poetry than to read poetry.
Put the heart of the heart into a few poems in the heart of the temple
Like the first love, enthusiasm, good night, good night
Go back one step at a time
Confused vision, clear and cordial, now in my heart
Pray for the guidance of the master
I also saw a few likes of the same people.
Heart flowers are colorful
Weaving her singer's crown
Embracing the life of her soul, drifting like a floating leaf, clean like a pure blank paper
It’s harder to learn to write poetry than to read poetry.
Put the heart of the heart into a few poems in the heart of the temple
Like the first love, enthusiasm, good night, good night
Go back one step at a time
Confused vision, clear and cordial, now in my heart
Pray for the guidance of the master
I also saw a few likes of the same people.
Heart flowers are colorful
Weaving her singer's crown
Embracing the life of her soul, drifting like a floating leaf, clean like a pure blank paper
