《寫小說的我們》
我們是故事人物的主人, 也是繆斯的人質,
為創造高潮不惜”謀殺”, 卻覺沒大不了的事.
整天絞盡心思一無所獲, 夜半突然驚醒
然後在鍵盤前「的的. 塔塔」的活像瘋子.
我們對其他人都說寫作樂趣無窮
卻從來不透露江郎才盡時的苦處
他們稱之為: 腦力便秘
就連我們噴出的口氣也可得知
作品完成發表, 我們裝作氣定神閒
實際上是對讚譽批評無比著意
一時三刻都在按「重新整理」
要不樂翻了天, 要不氣得半死.
字到口邊卻記不起來
搜索枯腸, 煩燥不已
即使細心校對再三
出版之後才發現錯漏多得是
他們說出書就有如生了娃娃
而我們和它們就有如母子
如果真是這樣, 就等同無止境分娩
盡頭仍在那未知處.
但每當感到那些創造出來的東西
在我們建立的宇宙中跳跳蹦蹦
我們只能苦笑一聲
乖乖的坐回我們的電腦椅子.
英文版原文:
(Writers)
Mistresses of our characters; hostages to our Muse
We murder just for another climax, shameless of our guilt
Rack our brains all day futile and then jolt up in the dead of night
Typing bewitched, as if we are fighting for our very lives
We tell everyone writing is such a pleasure
Without disclosing the torture of intermittent brain-deaths
Intellectual constipation they call it
We can almost smell the foul in our breaths
And when our work is out, we pretend to be brave
While in truth it is attention and praise we crave
Secret wishing as we relentless reload the page
To smile at a comment or fly into rage
We search for a word at the tips of our tongues
Yet it always eludes us dissipating all the fun
And though we have conducted exhaustive search for errors
We always find, after printing, there is invariably another one.
They say a new book is like a new baby
And we are the ones bringing it to life
Well, seems we are destined for constant labor
With no end in sight
But when our thoughts flash back to those creatures
Who scamper in the realms we create and share
We can only sigh and shrug
And go back to our computer chairs.
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