Male: At the age of 22, I climbed out of the swamp of youth, like a bruised lyre, dumb in the theme of wandering.
Man: There you are.
Woman: I walk towards you.
With bright eyes like campanula.
W: You said you liked my eyes.
M: Wipe my naked loneliness.
Woman: Loneliness, why are you always lonely?
M: Really.
Woman: Really?
M: This is the first time.
Woman: Is this the first time?
M: The sunshine is warm and the fingers are gentle.
Woman: Warm and gentle.
M: It touched me.
Woman: Did I touch you?
So it won't freeze again in the past.
Woman: No desire to freeze the past.
M: I hold my song and a string of disappointed notes.
W: I hold my song and a string of disappointed notes.
Walking into a spring evening.
Woman: A dusk, a dusk without wrinkles.
M: There are also stations that no longer stand at dusk.
Woman: Never stand up again, never stand up again.
Man: There were no stars and no moon on that night in April.
There are no stars and no moon. That night was normal.
Man: I traded my experience in the swamp for your past story.
Woman: No one can forget the muddy swamp and the sad story.
M: At this time, you are wet in my retina.
W: I read a book of poems on my knee, a book of poems by Whitman.
Man: I think you are a pure white bird.
I want to know what you are thinking.
Man: I know the beautiful cage has imprisoned you.
It also nurtures your persistent loneliness and beautiful silence.
Woman: Yes, it raised me and imprisoned me.
M: I know you didn't expect it to happen suddenly one morning.
The first flight started and it happened to rain.
W: Yes, it rained the first time we flew.
Man: I know the rain has wet your feathers, made your wings heavy and made your heart sad.
Woman: Yes, the rain broke my heart.
Man: Don't you notice?
Woman: Are you looking at me?
My warm pulse is applying for an indescribable impulse.
Woman: I really want to lift my eyes and look at you.
Man: But you didn't look up.
Woman: I didn't look up. I'm still browsing Whitman's poems.
Man: Maybe I'm not a stone or a dam.
Woman: This is not a stone or a dam.
There is no solid tree to rely on.
Woman: It's not a solid tree either.
M: But if you like.
You said if I wanted to.
M: I will use brave shoulders that are not wide.
And a loyal heart cultivated on the plateau.
Hold up a sky that will never be wronged for you.
Woman: There is no wronged sky. Do you want it or not?
Yes, if you like.
M: If you like.
Woman: I have.
(1April 1985 first draft,1February revision, Shanghai. )
On the creative background of this poem:
In 20 16, Liu Qing said in an exchange with the reciter Go on: "This poem was written at the beginning of my love with Rebecca (who is also a reciting lover) 30 years ago. Then we got married and went to America together. Our son was born in the United States (now in the third year of college in the United States). There were good days in this ten-year marriage, but I finally went back to work, and she stayed in North America and ended in divorce. She and I are still friends, and we are proud of our excellent children. It is such a story. Compared with this poem, it is a drop in the bucket. But in any case, we all had sincerity when we were young, and the complicated life course is often beyond the reach of poetry. "