诗的时光书

不谙世事时,我们总想在爱人面前摆出某种可歌可泣的姿态,讲“你的任何决定我都尊重”、“你离开我就祝福你”诸如此类的话,言不由衷、勉为其难,希冀那个人为自己的牺牲赞叹或感怀。慢慢地,经历人海涨落,明白有些人你略一松手,他就永远地从现实缩为回忆,成为你的一桩心事。那时才看淡所谓的风度,跌跌撞撞、痛哭流涕,出尽洋相也在所不惜。行事那么伟大有什么用?又不期望流芳百世,遇见那个不想放手的人,就不要放手。


Wild Roses
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by Agatha Christie

I know
Where the wild roses grow
Beside the lake.
The little spirits come and play,
And pink and white
Dance in the light
Before the break of day!
The sun comes up in golden heat,
The roses open wide...and fall...

And that is all...
Except I think I hear a sound
Along the ground,
Of many little pattering feet...

No more
Shall my wild roses of yore
Walk by the lake.
She told me where the rose sprites were
And how they played
All undismayed
By her sweet presence there!
Then death rose up twixt her and me!
She ...