Cyrano:
What would you have me do?
Seek for the patronage of some great man,
And like a creeping vine on a tall tree
Crawl upward, where I cannot stand alone?
No thank you! Dedicate, as others do,
Poems to pawnbrokers? Be a buffoon
In the vile hope of teasing out a smile
On some cold face? No thank you! Eat a toad
For breakfast every morning? Make my knees
Callous, and cultivate a supple spine, -
Wear out my belly groveling in the dust?
No thank you! Scratch the back of any swine
That roots up gold for me? Tickle the horns
Of Mammon with my left hand, while my right
Too proud to know his partner’s business,
Take in fee? No thank you! Use the fire
God gave me to burn incense all day long
Under the nose of wood and stone? No thank you!
Shall I go leaping into ladies’ laps
And licking fingers? – or – to change the form –
Navigating with madrigals for oars,
My sail full of the sighs of dowagers?
No thank you! Publish verses at my own
Expense? No thank you! Be the patron saint
Of a small group of literary souls
Who dine together every Tuesday? No
I thank you! Shall I labor night and day
To build a reputation on one song,
And never write another? Shall I find
True genius only among Geniuses,
Palpitate over little paragraphs,
And struggle to insinuate my name
In the columns of the Mercury?
No thank you! Calculate, scheme, be afraid,
Love more to make a visit than a poem,
Seek introductions, favors, influences? –
No thank you! No, I thank you! And again
I thank you! – But…
To sing, to laugh, to dreams,
To walk in my own way and be alone,
Free, with an eye to see things as they are,
A voice that means manhood – to cock my hat
Where I choose – At a word, a Yes, a No,
To fight – or write. To travel any road
Under the sun, under the stars, nor doubt
If fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne –
Never to make a line I have not heard
In my own heart; yet, with all modesty
To say: “My soul, be satisfied with flowers,
With fruit, with weeds even; but gather them
In the one garden you may call your own.”
So when I win some triumph, by some chance,
Render no share to Caesar – in a word,
I am too proud to be a parasite,
And if my nature wants the germ that grows
Towering to heaven like the mountain pine,
Or like the oak, sheltering multitudes –
I stand, not high it may be – but alone!
-- Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac, translation by Biran Hooker
我那本翻了几页看不下去的《道德经心释》先不勉强自己看了，听你说说道还是不错滴
我很久没穿冲锋衣了，就在家宅着，开卷有益
帮我练英文？太感谢了，我老板才语重心长的让我练好英语啊！
我就发我就发，我不发着文章，怎么能受这多产婆术试的智慧的启发呢~~
