一首诗

在大卫·柯南伯格的电影《星图》里有一首保尔·艾吕雅（Paul Éluard）诗，它适合在大庭广众人来人往中被大声念出来，世人走过，你可以笑着，可以哭着，仿佛是一只狂妄的孤独的疯子。

        在我的小学生练习簿上
        在我的课桌和树木上
        在沙上在雪上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在所有读过的书页上
        在所有空白的书页上
        石头、鲜血、白纸或灰烬
        我写下你的名字
        
        在金色的图像上
        在战士的武器上
        在国王的冠冕上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在丛林和沙漠上
        在鸟巢和灌木上
        在我童年的回声上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在夜晚的奇迹上
        在白昼的面包上
        在订婚的季节上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在我所有的蓝布片上
        在太阳发霉的池塘上
        在月亮盘旋的湖面上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在田野上在地平线上
        在飞鸟的羽翼上
        在影子的风车上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在每一缕晨曦上
        在海上在船上
        在癫狂的山峦上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在云朵的泡沫上
        在暴风雨的汗水上
        在稠密而烦腻的雨帘上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在各种闪光的形体上
        在各种色彩的钟声上
        在自然的真理上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在苏醒的小路上
        在舒展的大道上
        在沸腾的广场上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在点燃的灯上
        在熄灭的灯上
        在我连成一排的屋舍上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在镜子把我的房间
        一分为二的果实上
        在我空如贝壳的床上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在我贪吃而温驯的狗身上
        在它竖起的耳朵上
        在它笨拙的爪子上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在我门前的跳板上
        在那些熟悉的物品上
        在得到祝福的火焰上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在所有应允的身体上
        在我朋友们的额头上
        在每一只伸出的手上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在惊奇的玻璃上
        在专注的嘴唇上
        在高出沉默的地方
        我写下你的名字
        
        在我被毁坏的避难所
        在我那倒塌的灯塔上
        在我烦恼的墙垣上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在冷淡的缺席中
        在赤裸的孤寂中
        在死亡的阶梯上
        我写下你的名字
        
        在恢复的健康上
        在消失的危险上
        在没有记忆的希望中
        我写下你的名字
        
        凭借一个词的力量
        我重新开始生活
        我生来是为了认识你
        为了呼唤你的名字
        
        自由


On my school notebooks
On my desk and on the trees
On the sands of snow
I write your name

On the pages I have read
On all the white pages
Stone, blood, paper or ash
I write your name

On the images of gold
On the weapons of the warriors
On the crown of the king
I write your name

On the jungle and the desert
On the nest and on the brier
On the echo of my childhood
I write your name

On all my scarves of blue
On the moist sunlit swamps
On the living lake of moonlight
I write your name

On the fields, on the horizon
On the birds’ wings
And on the mill of shadows
I write your name

On each whiff of daybreak
On the sea, on the boats
On the demented mountaintop
I write your name

On the froth of the cloud
On the sweat of the storm
On the dense rain and the flat
I write your name

On the flickering figures
On the bells of colors
On the natural truth
I write your name

On the high paths
On the deployed routes
On the crowd-thronged square
I write your name

On the lamp which is lit
On the lamp which isn’t
On my reunited thoughts
I write your name

On a fruit cut in two
Of my mirror and my chamber
On my bed, an empty shell
I write your name

On my dog, greathearted and greedy
On his pricked-up ears
On his blundering paws
I write your name

On the latch of my door
On those familiar objects
On the torrents of a good fire
I write your name

On the harmony of the flesh
On the faces of my friends
On each outstretched hand
I write your name

On the window of surprises
On a pair of expectant lips
In a state far deeper than silence
I write your name

On my crumbled hiding-places
On my sunken lighthouses
On my walls and my ennui
I write your name

On abstraction without desire
On naked solitude
On the marches of death
I write your name

And for the want of a word
I renew my life
For I was born to know you
To name you

Liberty.