Re: 嘿
※ 引述《Styrael (電子學有在難)》之銘言：
: 標題: 嘿
: 時間: Thu Sep 22 22:50:01 2005
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: ※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc)
: ◆ From: 220.137.202.53
: ※ 編輯: Styrael 來自: 220.137.202.53 (09/22 22:51)
: 推 galachung: 後來就.....拖稿阿魯巴! 09/22 22:53
: 推 clickwang:靠邀，圖咧~~ 09/22 22:59
: 推 cymine:色 09/23 00:28
: 推 hairheat:你偷吃, 鄭先生有看到 09/23 00:52
: 推 Oredgreen:他們彼此相信 是瞬間迸發的熱情讓他們相遇 09/23 01:06
今天早上我們上病理課...
醫師就講解這首諾貝爾獎大文豪Wislawa Szymborska的詩-.-
他總共講兩首，另一首是The Terrorist, He's Watching......
然後一節課講一百張投影片，每一張都不到一分鐘，少的還不到三十秒~
一次看四張投影片-.-
上課這麼趕，他還硬是要講英詩，到底是怎樣 囧rz
: 推 CKMBWALEY:死蟲栗害我笑死!!lamina lucida!Zonula occula~ 09/23 16:02
: 推 kingtiger:推栗子的^^~ 09/23 17:01
THE TERRORIST, HE'S WATCHING
The bomb in the bar will explode at thirteen twenty.
Now, it's just thirteen sixteen.
There's still time for some to go in,
and some to come out.
The terrorist has already crossed the street.
The distance keeps him out of danger,
and what a view - just like the movies:
A woman in a yellow jacket, she's going in.
A man in dark glasses, he's coming out.
Teen-agers in jeans, they're talking.
Thirteen seventeen and four seconds.
The short one, he's lucky, he's getting on a scooter,
but the tall one, he's going in.
Thirteen seventeen and forty seconds.
That girl, she's walking along with a green ribbon in her hair.
But then a bus suddenly pulls in front of her.
Thirteen eighteen.
The girl's gone.
Was she that dumb, did she go in or not,
we'll see when they carry them out.
Thirteen nineteen.
Somehow no one's going in.
Another guy, fat, bald, is leaving, though.
Wait a second, looks like he's looking for something in his pockets and
at thirteen twenty minus ten seconds
he goes back in for his crummy gloves.
Thirteen twenty exactly.
This waiting, it's taking forever.
Any second now.
No, not yet.
Yes, now.
The bomb, it explodes.
Love at First Sight
Wislawa Szymborska
Both are convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.
Because they didn't know each other earlier, they suppose that
nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and corridors
where they could have passed each other long ago?
I'd like to ask them
whether they remember-- perhaps in a revolving door
ever being face to face?
an "excuse me" in a crowd
or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.
But I know their answer:
no, they don't remember.
They'd be greatly astonished
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.
Not yet wholly ready
to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off,
stood in their way
and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side. There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.
Perhaps three years ago,
or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly
from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball
in the bushes of childhood.
There were doorknobs and bells
on which earlier
touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.
Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.
Every beginning
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open.
-translated by Walter Whipple
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※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc)
◆ From: 218.166.65.7
※ 編輯: Gyvenlaister 來自: 218.166.65.7 (09/23 19:49)
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