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“南京汉口路西延工程获批,将劈开南京大学,经过南京师范大学,穿越河海大学”
原载:
《南方周末》2008.11.20 调查A5版
http://www.infzm.com/content/20194 (11月23日,本人多次尝试,不知何故,打开网页后总显示“读取文章失败”)
“爱南京”全文转载:
http://inanjing.org/2008/11/to-universities-or-the-road/
相关链接:
城市建设为什么要以牺牲大学为代价?——河海大学公共管理学院教师金林南、张健挺http://www.xici.net/b16462/d80851043.htm
五岳散人:偌大南京竟容不下一张安静的书桌吗
http://news.sina.com.cn/pl/2008-11-21/122116699936.shtml
前一阵,有一天我去新图二层还书,那个大叔(我除了还书借书从来没和他多说过一句话)看了我一眼忽然问道:“你怎么还没毕业啊?我好像已经看到你很多年了。”我只好说:“是很多年了,不过也不是留级啊。”掐指一算,果然是本人进出北外图书馆的第六个年头,来来去去的居然连图书馆的大叔都认得我的老脸(一般女孩子换身衣裳不熟识的人马上就会不认得)开始嫌我阴魂不散似的,真是又好笑又耿耿于怀,做诗一首以为纪念:
An Encounter in the
Library
I was but a rambler in the library
In free mornings and idle afternoons,
To shake hands with flying dust
Dancing in the columns of sunshine,
And to befriend the book-worms
Eating more papers than I.
Many times, like a thief
Sneaking in the labyrinth of shelves,
I passed the statue of a librarian unnoticed,
With books read, unread and half skimmed through.
Never a little chat we had
To break the silence of the room.
Until today, when I returned books again,
He raised his head, looking at me
As an old acquaintance, and asked
With a note of amusement in his voice,
“Why, haven’t you graduated yet?
I think I’ve been seeing you for many years.”
I laughed to conceal my blush,
For cheating his labor as a library wanderer,
And felt many and many a year
Is flowing through my fingers,
As if I’ve already been old,
But none the wiser.
This is my homework of the Ethnic American Literature course, written as a response to the Africa-American poet Michael S. Weaver’s poem “A Black Man’s Sonata.”
A Chinese Girl’s Sonata
Ⅰ
As a small girl,
Short, thin and plain,
I was afraid of speaking to a foreigner,
Who, like a big Persian cat,
With one eye blue and one eye green,
Smiled a strange smile.
So I turned down my eyes.
When I am growing up,
A west wind is sweeping the world,
Teaching you to be loud and eloquent
Like a symphony orchestra,
And pushing you to compete
With him and her and everybody
In this and that and everything.
Just not being and will never be that kind,
I know I’m not definitely the wrong kind.
So I turned down my eyes,
And withdraw into my inner realm.
There, I pluck the silk string
Of the oldest Chinese instrument.
The still music of ancient wisdom
Echoes and echoes inside,
Until it coagulates into a tiny seed
In my heart, solid and silent,
The roots slowly growing into my every vein.
Short, thin and plain,
No longer afraid,
I smiled back at every Persian cat I meet,
Quiet and sure as a seed.
Ⅱ
My mind itches with unrest
As the soil might itch
When a seedling goes through
With its gentle scratch;
My head is swelling like a balloon,
Filled with the looming bulk of
Airy ideas, idle thoughts and fancy dreams,
Aroused by the sound of a gold lyre,
Which even the ancient string inside
Cannot tie to the ground,
Until it is large enough
To bring me high up,
Floating over mountains and seas,
Crossing a world boundless and unlimited,
In a galloping freedom.
Yet I’m not without sudden fear
That the balloon popped
And in an alien land me drop.
Tell me, little cat,
Look into my eyes black,
No matter your eyes are
Green, grey, blue or brown.
You might grow firm,
You might grow strong,
But have you ever been afraid,
Being flung into the world vast and unknown?
2008. 10.12
调查一下,有多少人喜欢用铅笔在书上记笔记?
Always my hands hesitate
To tarnish the tidiness of a poem,
On a white white page shining,
With marks, notes and underlines:
Pen, ball-pen, fountain pen,
In ink blue and black,
Darken the yet sooty body
Of Blake’s chimney sweeper;
Marker and highlighter,
Yellow, green and happy pink,
Paint the sad tearful face
Of Tennyson’s idle weeper.
Disturbing the sleeping soul
Behind the curtain of words,
Your forgiveness I seek
For a learner’s graffiti
In her Norton Anthology.
So I dare only pick up a pencil,
With a blunt tip, modest and humble,
To leave my faint grey track
Between lines and in the margin.
One day, if one day
The marks are blurred by years and erased by time,
I, forgetting old fears and rereading the rhyme,
Will have a quiet talk with your peaceful soul,
On the yellowish page, we might be reconciled.
——《南方周末》逼近震中号外,2008年5月15日,星期四
On Parting
Do you remember a time long long ago
When I, a sapling, and you, a stone,
On the grassy bank of the ethereal river stay,
And leaning against you, I sleep long days away?
When time seems to be at a standstill
We are happy prisoners of Heaven’s will.
The dream ends just like the dream begins,
Suddenly into this world, Heaven carries me and flings.
Until I recognize you twenty earthly years later on a February,
The carefree prelife is but no more than a fleeting memory.
Running in spring wind, the ecstasy of reunion is overwhelming;
Lying under autumn sky, we are immersed in sweet dreaming.
All the forgotten joy we try to call back,
But the train of life nearly jumps the track,
Since our laughter is too light a load,
And the steering wheel requires heavy hands to hold.
Innocence joy gone, like two children naked,
We fall upon the thorns of life wicked;
They prick our fingers when we pick the flower,
So the sore lingers hour after hour.
If looking back when our teeth are loose and hair grey,
We may lightly laugh this youthful care away,
But now, how do we bear the painful heaviness we need?
And toiling in dust, get our life-long dream feed?
Saying the tenth farewell in the fifteen months past,
We pray Heaven this parting is the last.
I do not need your heart, no,
And I’ll not give mine to you,
They are too heavy to carry and too precious to lose,
But I truly want to have your sorrow soothe.
Since I know every rhythm of your heart
As you know mine, let them be beating independently apart;
Until they are firm and we are strong,
We will meet again with fears beaten down.
(2008.5.7)
别后
你是否记得很久很久以前
当我是一株树,你是一块石,
居住在绿草遍布的灵河岸,
倚靠着你,我在睡眠中消磨漫漫长日?
庭院静好,岁月无惊,当时光似乎停驻,
你我是天意之下快乐的囚徒。
可梦醒直如梦始,
上天突然抓我入掌,抛我入世。
了无忧愁的前世只是飞逝而过的记忆,
直到人间岁月二十年,我认出你在那个二月。
奔跑在春日的暖风中,重逢的喜悦淹没一切,
仰躺在秋天的星空下,你我沉醉在甜梦中。
我们试图唤回所有曾经忘却的欢笑,
生活的列车却险些冲出轨道,
因为欢乐是太轻太轻的负荷,
方向盘需要沉稳有力的手去把握。
天真的喜悦已然远去,如同两个赤裸的孩子
我们摔倒在人生的荆棘上,
恶意的荆棘扎破我们摘取鲜花的手指,
指间的疼痛萦绕不去。
当我们齿摇发落再回溯往事,
少年时的忧愁或许只一笑置之,
但今日,今日沉重的苦痛虽有益却叫我们如何承受?
俯首于尘土之中,一生的梦想我们该如何实现?
十五个月中第十次别离,
我们乞求上天这是最后一试。
我不要得到你的心,我不要,
我也不会为你献上我的,
因为沉甸甸的心太难承受,珍贵的心太易遗失,
但虽如此,我确想抚平你的忧愁。
既然我已知道你心的节奏,
而你也知道我的,就让分隔两地的心各自跳动,
直到有一天心更坚定,我们更勇敢,
让我们再相逢,无所畏惧。