今天有人问我,什么是爱.我的回答是:
爱情不过是个乌托邦式的城堡，远远地矗立在梦想的那端，美得不可方物，却又遥不可及。对于这一点，曾获得过诺贝尔文学奖的爱尔兰诗人Yeats恐怕是感同身受。因为他对毛特·岗的爱，就恰如一个心碎的乌托邦，他付出了一生里最真挚的情感。爱情的不幸造就了一位伟大的诗人，但是，伟大的诗人仅此一位，而爱情的不幸千千万万，造就了什么呢？千千万万苦恼之人……。当然，乌托邦没什么不好,正因为追逐不到,亦或遥不可及,才会有一种惊艳、一种凄楚、一种刻骨铭心。
知道William Butler Yeats,是从那首>(全上海的KTV都没这首歌)开始. 后来才拜读了下面这首惊世之作.
When You Are Old 当你老了
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When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire,take down this book,
And slowly read,and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once,and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
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When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire,take down this book,
And slowly read,and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once,and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur,a little sadly,how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
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