Passionately

Author: Chun Shu
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-01-01
Features: I am that boy who died at seventeen. I am that boy who cried at fourteen. I am that boy who wrote poems at eighteen. I am that boy who didn’t die in his youth but survived by the skin of his teeth. What I like, or what I think is poetry, is poetry. What I don’t like, or what I think isn’t poetry, then it isn’t poetry. What do you think poetry is? Poetry is really useless. Please don’t treat poetry as some grand thing. In reality, it’s just a bunch of nonsense and empty talk. But this nonsense isn’t something everyone can say, and saliva isn’t something you can just let flow whenever you want. From this nonsense and empty talk, the author can truly feel something’s presence. In fact, if you simplify and mechanize this nonsense theory, you write some nonsense, let some saliva flow, even if you write a hundred poems a day, you’ll probably throw them all in the trash before going to bed at night—because it’s not poetry, and that’s that. You should know that just because you want to say something doesn’t mean it will truly come out of the typesetting room. When I see the snow falling over Beijing, this snow falling just for me! With two days of no sleep, I start to get excited, like when I was a child, reaching out to touch the snow. I’m wearing a red outfit, a blue hat, and a scarf, hoping others will see a simple child. A girl with a smiling face walks over, her nose, that childlike smile instantly moves me. I know the gap between ideals and reality and am willing to compromise so that more people can see my poetry. If I could avoid compromise, that would be perfect. I don’t want to talk anymore about my love for poetry. If you love it, love it without reservation.