寒鴉終於拼湊成
夜﹕黑色地圖
我回來了—歸程
總是比迷途長
長於一生
— 北岛 “黑色地图”
in the end, cold crows piece together
the night: a black map
I’ve come home—the way back
longer than the wrong road
long as a life
— Bei Dao (translated by Eliot Weinberger)
Everyone in the room is cheering.
This is what you do for a painting you love!
We climb up on one another’s shoulders,
wave pom-poms that match the palette.
— Rebecca Morgan Frank
A green level of lily leaves
Roofs the pond’s chamber and paves
The flies’ furious arena: study
These, the two minds of this lady.
— Ted Hughes
Into warm evenings on a shadowy road
The children ventured, and once more they knew
Remarkable hours, when points of darkness glowed
With fresh surprise as myriad fireflies drew
Each to imagine stars, but stars at hand …
— Thomas Carper
It nuzzles oblivion, confuses
itself with mud. A creature
of familiar taste …
— Claudia Emerson
No cat I remember
dislikes December
inside.
— Marilyn Singer
One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
— Christina Rossetti
Don’t be polite.
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that
may run down your chin.
— Eve Merriam
Over the river and through the wood,
To have first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring,
“Ting-a-ling-ding!”
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
— Lydia Maria Child
Just the passion of painters
and poets trying to catch
who they think we might be.
— Heid E. Erdrich
PS:
This poem is written in response to Amedeo Modigliani’s portrait Roma Woman with Baby.
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