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Comment by 用心涼Coooool on May 15, 2024 at 7:53am

Vincent (Starry starry night)by Don Mclean (唐·馬克林)

Starry starry night


Paint your palette blue and grey


Look out on a summer’s day


With eyes that know the darkness in my soul


Shadows on the hills


Sketch the trees and daffodils


Catch the breeze and the winter chills


In colors on the snowy linen land


Now I understand what you try to say to me


And how you suffered for your sanity


And how you tried to set them free


They would not listen


They did not know how


Perhaps they’ll listen you now


Starry starry night


Flaming flowers that brightly blaze


Swirling clouds in Violet haze


Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue


Colors changing hue


Morning fields of amber grain


Weathered faces lined in pain


Are Soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand


Now I understand what you try to say to me


And how you suffered for your sanity


And how you tried to set them free


They would not listen


They did not know how


Perhaps they’ll listen you now


For they could not love you


But still your love was true


And when no hope was left inside


On that starry starry night


You took your life as lovers often do


But I could have told you Vincent


This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you


Starry starry night


Portraits hung in empty halls


Frameless heads on nameless walls


With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget


Like the stranger that you’ve met


The ragged man in ragged cloth


The silver thorn in a bloody rose


Lying crushed and broken on the virgin snow


Now I think I know what you try to say to me


That how you suffered for your sanity


And how you try to set them free


They would not listen they’re not listening still


Perhaps they never will


Vincent van Gogh: The Starry Night, oil on canvas by Vincent van Gogh, 1889; in the Museum of Modern Art, New York City.

Critics said Gogh's work was influenced by Katsushika Hokusai (日本畫家葛飾北齋 1760-1849)

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on March 4, 2022 at 11:14pm

The Meaning of PhD

Yesterday I booked a private taxi for airport.

When I arrived at my destination the driver gave me his business card for future bookings.

「Dr. Raymond Tan PhD」

Wow !!! i was surprised and quizzed him,

"Why are you driving a taxi with such high qualification ?"

He replied "Dr. is the short form of Driver"

"Then what about your PhD ?"

"I am a Privately-Hired Driver"

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on November 1, 2021 at 2:43pm

These costs manifest themselves in situations where you find yourself trying desperately to share your life-changing experiences with your friends only to be met with eyes of boredom and a stifled yawn.

No matter how many pictures of Louvre you pull up on your phone, they can’t seem to get how truly spectacular it was to stand in front of the Winged Victory of Samothrace. While one might be tempted to assign this lack of interest to simple envy, the truth is often at once more simple and complex than that.

“You had to be there to experience it,” you say, casually. And that statement might just contain the answer to your friends’ lack-of-interest.

They just weren’t there.

Your friends did not set out to be intentionally callous. The problem is that they just can’t relate because they weren’t there. You speak of washing down the most delicious cod croquettes with a glass of rosé at the 58 Tour Eiffel, but back here among the humdrum of the every day, your hometown mates are probably more excited about the local pizza joint that recently opened two streets over.

The lack of shared experiential vocabulary can create some social friction. Extraordinary experiences, while personally life-changing, might leave the traveller feeling socially divided from his or her community.

If you want to bond over how beautiful the sunlight looked sparkling on the water as you walked along the Seine, why not seek out a fellow traveller who understands without having to pull up a dozen photos that ultimately don’t do it justice anyway.

Reconnect with the travel buddies you met along the way. You’ll both be able to intuitively understand each other’s experiences and reciprocate with sharing similar stories more enthusiastically.

Growth is normal.

Understand that many of these experiences often confer non-social pleasures that might best be accepted as a personal journey.

If you claim that these have been life-changing experiences, then changes are bound to reflect in your person. How have your philosophies or outlooks on life shifted? Your previously irreligious self would have scoffed at the idea of any higher deity. But after spending an afternoon listening to the choir sing at Sacré-Cœur Basilica, you now identify as a Christian.

Not all changes are that momentous. Maybe visiting all those galleries and museums has given you a newfound appreciation for Renaissance art. Your friends might not be that interested in listening to the history of the pigments used by Leonardo da Vinci in his Mona Lisa.

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on November 1, 2021 at 2:43pm

Be grateful.

While the democratization of travel has made visiting different locations more accessible, travelling is nonetheless still a privilege that some people are not in a position to experience.

It is only human for a twinge of plain old envy play a small role in someone’s clear disinterest in your stories. Your friend might have been pinching her pennies for years in her attempts to travel out of state. And here you are talking about missing the days where you backpacked through ten different European cities. Very soon, they’re waiting for the inevitable point where your conversation turns into a one-sided monologue. You should be proud of yourself and your newfound independence and insights. but also recognise that these are opportunities to be thankful for. No one likes a humble-brag.

At the end of the day, these small instances of social friction should not deter you from seeking extraordinary experiences. Be self-aware in your communications and don’t take it personally if a flicker of boredom appears in your friend’s eyes as you recount your adventures. Travelling is often an intensely personal and visceral journey. Very often the joys and sorrows experienced along the way are unique to each person. And that’s okay! You can always seek out other common interests to bond over. (Source:

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on September 7, 2021 at 11:21pm


On a sapling in the field

Little birds are singing:

“Spring has come back to the world

Little birds are singing!”


“Pink and red and budding all,

The peonies are big and tall.

While the cherry tree is small,

Sweet its fruits will be and yellow.”


Grasses grow on the meadow’s side,

Swinging to the wind of spring,

Tiny faces moving with the tide,

Raising voices and they sing:


“Drink our dew, most gentle breeze,

There is more than you can tell;

Blow into our dresses, please,

Does it make them shine and swell!”


Riding on his buffalo

A young boy beats the beat

On his thighs and he sings too,

So romantic in the heat:


“We need a dive, we need to bathe,

We are a perfect team.

My buffalo can drink and graze,

It’s time for her to swim.”


“I see there is a shallow lake

For us to have a bath in.

The water is cool, for freshness sake

I will not stop my singing.”


"Lo!" said a thinker, walking by

With zero goal but his despair.

"Where do we go, cried he, and why?"

Both hands in his neglected hair.


He watched the boy, the meadow and

The birds, and then his heart knew better.

“Can peace be an illusion, though

These spring things really matter?”


A jaded poet passed in tears, but here

His fingers cleared them and the wrinkles

Of his forehead broke and cheered:

The vision of pure beauty made him twinkle.

Xu Yunuo, April 5, 1922

Translation by Jan Laurens Siesling, February 6, 2017

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on September 6, 2021 at 9:50am



















“不!…… 我要找野菜花去,我要找巧麥去 …… ” 


紫羅蘭慢慢的低下頭來,沈沈尋思 …… 




Comment by 用心涼Coooool on September 5, 2021 at 10:15pm

The Violet and the Bee

Violet was a violet and the sun was warm,

Bee was a bee far away from his swarm,

Flying so slow and so utterly lazy,

Trembling Violet got with joy a bit crazy,

In for a flirt, her color could show it,

Her perfume, the spring air would blow it.

“My dear, my bee, my honey, come near,

I need your sweet kisses, I’m waiting here.”

She said it out loud, it was foolish, however

The bee just flew off, as if an endeavor

She wasn’t worth, and he spoke in the tone

Of a slug in the sand or a snail on a stone:

“I’m here to work, honey, on honey you know,

Tonight two legs full of pollen I owe.”

How chastely Violet smiled, smiled encore,

Her odors invested the air even more.

“I know you young guys, you act the same.

Your heart is dry, and worried your brain,

Cold like crude iron, but the fault is not you.

You need tender warm cuddles, wet ones too.

Come closer, my lovely and lively bee,

Do what you want, but do it to me.

Fly over me, beauty, you don’t want to miss

An occasion to practice on me a deep kiss.”

When thus she spoke, her petals spoke too,

Followed by tears that trickled down, blue.

But Bee was as cold as a bee can be,

Keen, to his queen, on responsibility.

His job was his life, who wants to lose that?

Not for a kiss, not even with Violet.

“Goodbye girl, he said, time is running,

Work waits for me, cut short your cunning.”

Violet heard this and she did her best

To cut short her smile, but not her quest.

More like a prayer sounded her voice

When she offered Bee a last choice.

“Don’t run away, I might have what you need,

Honey for you, slow down! Or rather speed!

Speed up and put your mouth in mine,

Deep in there you will find my wine.”

“Sorry for now Violet! If you don’t mind,

I’m after flowers of another kind,

Old fashioned and useful, not sweet

Like you, but bitter barley and brown buckwheat.”

Such was the humble bee’s mumbling, before

He took off to blue heaven’s shore.

Violet was alone and she calmed down

Bowing her face, not showing her frown,

When she wondered how there could be

A bee unwilling to be with her to bee.

But wondering she smiled and smelt even more,

Telling the world what her beauty was for.

Xu Yunuo, April 5, 1922

Translation by Jan Laurens Siesling, February 6, 2017

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on September 3, 2021 at 5:07pm

徐玉諾的兩首詩 ·關於翻譯的註解

192245日,徐玉諾寫了兩首春天的詩。幾乎一個世紀以後,在春天,我打算把它們譯成英語。更確切些,我還是用“改寫”, 而不是“翻譯”這個詞吧。當音樂家為了另一種樂器去改寫一首樂曲時,他們用這個詞。我的版本的這兩首徐玉諾的詩不是字面的翻譯;有人可能認為它們不夠字面。但我相信它們是忠實於原作的。雖然犧牲了一些字面的東西,我相信我的改寫能夠保持原詩的精神。我相信一首詩的本質是它的精神。

詩的精神有多少是在純粹的字母和詞語裏?這是所有翻譯面對的問題,一個令譯者頭痛的問題。有人會認為它在詞語裏,就是這樣。我想提議說它是在詞語之間,詩行之間。在中文(到西方語言)的翻譯中,這個問題是刻不容緩的。為什麽呢?翻譯詩歌的真正和最終的理由是傳達詩的詩意質量(或本質)。如果我,一個歐洲人,自詡能夠捕捉到中國詩歌的詩意本質,那麽我是自命不凡。不過我讀詩的目的正是要捕捉詩意的本質; 這也是我翻譯的目的,途中自然經歷更多的障礙。


徐玉諾是一位20世紀初的革命的作家。作為一個天真的詩人,中國的Douanier Rousseau (愛懇編註:亨利·盧梭(Henri Julien Félix Rousseau),他略去長期以來主導中國詩歌的嚴格的結構規則。他交流著純粹的靈感,以自發的形式表現它,給人留下自由的印象。為了實現這一點,他的作品中引入了一些(浪漫)西方詩學的典型元素。在他們中間有敘述,簡單的每一天的詞匯,音樂性的語言和象征手法。(有趣的是,在同一時期,著名的西方作家們在他們的作品中,也在自由的旗幟下,引入了中國詩意質量的概念,或者他們認為是詩意質量的概念。)

當我發現寫於1922年的這兩首春天的詩,那些元素作為詩的主要特征觸擊到我。為了做到有趣和忠實的改寫我強調了這些特征,並在這裏或那裏發展了它們。我因此選擇了一個英語節奏韻律,不求學術嚴謹地使用他們,卻是連貫地,詩句更像是1922年的英國風格。我想要它是愉快的,不失天真的幽默或者語言的奇異(所以英國的!)。抓住它的坦率的情緒是必須的,還有它潛在的象征。這麽做,有時遺憾我失去了一些中國形式的橢圓特質。但正是在這個代價下,為英語讀者我保存了居於這兩首詩中的喜悅,這喜悅就是詩的靈魂。這個喜悅不僅慶祝春天的到來,還慶祝新詩時代的黎明,之外,一個新社會的黎明。(楊.勞倫斯.西思翎 / 2017年2月6日)

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on September 3, 2021 at 3:56pm

Note on this translation—On April 5th, 1922, Xu Yunuo wrote two poems about spring. Almost one century later, in spring, I propose a translation in English. Should I, instead of translation, more correctly use the word transcription?

Musicians use it when they arrange a piece for a different instrument than it was originally written for. My versions of the two Xu Yunuo poems are not literal translations; some may think they are not sufficiently literal. But I believe they are true to the original. I believe my arrangement was able to maintain the spirit of the poems, while sacrificing to the letter. I believe the essence of a poem is its spirit.

How much of the spirit of a poem is in the mere letters and words? This is a problem with all translations, and a headache for translators. Some would argue it is in the words, period. I would suggest it is between the words, between the lines. In translations from the Chinese (into Western languages) the question is pressing. This is why: The true and ultimate justification for translating poetry is to transmit the poetic quality (or essence) of a poem. I would be pretentious if I, a European, boasted I am able to capture the poetic essence of Chinese poetry. Still the goal of my reading poetry is exactly that. Also, with more obstacles in the way, it is the goal of my translating. My understanding of poetic quality, however, is determined by the language I am born in, or by the ones I am very familiar with. Poetic quality and the spirit, I mentioned above, are probably close cousins. The spirit, I supposed, dwells between the words. And so I fill the space between the words of the foreign language poem with what goes for poetic quality in my own language. I can’t help doing it; it is part of my chemistry. But I think it is only in this way I can serve readers of the poem in its new language (my language). If I do well, I may even hope to do a service to the poem, and to whoever reads it in its original language. Let me move now to the transcription of the two poems that provoked these thoughts.

Xu Yunuo is a revolutionary writer of the early 20th century. Presented as a naive poet, a Douanier Rousseau of China, he ignores the strict rules of structure that had dominated Chinese verse since long. He communicates pure inspiration and delivers it in a spontaneous form, leaving an impression of liberation. To achieve this, he introduced a few typical elements of (Romantic) Western poetics into his writing. Between them are narration, simple and every day vocabulary, melodious language and symbolism. (It is interesting to see that in the same period prominent Western writers introduced Chinese notions of poetic quality, or what they thought it was, in their work, also under the banner of liberation.) Those elements were the principle features that struck me, when I discovered the two spring poems of 1922. To make an interesting and faithful transcription I stressed these features, and developed them here or there. I chose therefore an English rhythm, meter and rhyme, using them without academic rigor, but consistently, as verse would have been in England in 1922. I wanted it to be pleasant, not deprived of naive humor or even linguistic oddities (so English!). To catch its candid mood was a must, as well as its latent symbolism. In so doing I lost some of the elliptical qualities of the Chinese form, sometimes with regret. But it was at that price that I saved for the English reader the joy that inhabits the poems, as their soul. This joy celebrates not only the coming of spring, but the dawn of a new poetic era, and beyond that the dawn of a new society. (JLS,February 6, 2017)

Comment by 用心涼Coooool on June 20, 2021 at 4:34pm

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–1894)

A Prayer for Travellers

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

The rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

愛墾網 是文化創意人的窩;自2009年7月以來,一直在挺文化創意人和他們的創作、珍藏。As home to the cultural creative community, supports creators since July, 2009.


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