“In Search of Lost Time” is my favorite work, and its author Proust is my favorite writer. Proust was unable to go out due to illness for many years and was trapped at home. He devoted himself to writing the novel, interweaving memories of the past and imagination to create a masterpiece. I went to Paris for the first time a few years ago. I got off the plane, checked in at the hotel, and then took the subway straight to Père Lachaise Cemetery, where Proust is buried.
A Visit to Proust's Grave
Plane landing. Hotel checking in.
I then went straight to Lachaise cemetery
where you have your final resting.
Parting and reunion. Life and death.
No more and no less.
You have settled in peace.
Foretime and future rhyme.
I was in search of your past, and
how you were in search of lost time.
It was quite a quest
to bring back all that has left.
Magic words flew out of your chest.
What's gonna fly? Made up or real things?
It doesn't matter in that
your imagination has wings.
Confined to a small house
during and after life,
you'll still always inspire
'cause your work broke out of the house arrest,
went on to the mountain top,
turning into a diamond spire.
【七律】访普鲁斯特墓
长卧市郊公墓里，死生契阔终安息。
如烟往事惜还珍，似水年华追可忆。
妙语优文出宅心，奇思冥想飞天翼。
吾之拜谒因神交，千古文章已造极。
(© September 24, 2023, godog)
