Plath 的诗 看到的是恨 这种恨尽天下万物的力量 不敢恭维 但是 Gwendolyn Brooks的诗 我觉得层次更高 这一首 Boy Breaking Glass Gwendolyn Brooks To Marc Crawford From Whom the Commission Whose broken window is a cry of art (success, that winks aware as elegance, as a treasonable faith) is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed premi?re. Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament. Our barbarous and metal little man. ``I shall create! If not a note, a hole. If not an overture, a desecration.'' Full of pepper and light and Salt and night and cargoes. ``Don't go down the plank if you see there's no extension. Each to his grief, each to his loneliness and fidgety revenge. Nobody knew where I was and now I am no longer there.'' The only sanity is a cup of tea. The music is in minors. Each one other is having different weather. ``It was you, it was you who threw away my name! And this is everything I have for me.'' Who has not Congress, lobster, love, luau, the Regency Room, the Statue of Liberty, runs. A sloppy amalgamation. A mistake. A cliff. A hymn, a snare, and an exceeding sun. --

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