There once was a young man named John George who had grown up in a quiet pleasant town, had been quietly mediocre in most things he'd tried, and even had a nice quiet family business waiting for him when he came of age. When he turned twenty-one and reflected on his life thus far, he was highly disappointed, for John's one really serious desire in life was to become a GREat poet, and great poetry is not borne of quiet and pleasant lives. So John went to his mentor, a professor at a very small college nearby, and explained his problem. "I want to write great poetry, poetry filled with passion, poetry made of light and air, poetry that evokes a sense of the eternal void within us all, and the eternal light within that void."
"Good," said the professor.
"But nothing interesting has ever happened to me," John continued.
His mentor suggested that he try falling in love. "Falling in love," said John's mentor, "is one of the most interesting experiences life has to offer." Pausing for a moment, his brow furrowed, the professor added, "Or so I've heard."
John took his mentor's advice to heart, and traveled to a large city not too far from his town, and began looking for a girl. He went to shows, to clubs, to parties, to coffeehouses. After an entire week of searching, John saw a girl sitting at the table next to his at the all-night diner, and fell in love. He introduced himself, read the girl a few of his least wretched poems, and soon the two were gazing dreamily into each other's eyes across the sticky fiberglass tabletop.
John married the girl---her name was Susan--within a month. Surprisingly, they were fabulously happy. Susan was thrilled by John's mediocre poetry, and impressed by his single-minded determination to become a GREat writer. John, for his part, had never had a girl of his own before, and was utterly smitten with Susan and her breathless admiration. John was so enormously happy that he felt compelled to write about it, about his enchanted life and glowing contentment. He filled notebook after notebook with exuberant, radiant poetry---it was very happy poetry, but it was not good poetry. It was not filled with passion; it was not made of light and air; it did not evoke a sense of the eternal void within us all, or of the eternal light within that void.
And so John went back to his mentor, complaining that he had fallen in love, and was married and fabulously happy, and had many things to write about, but still his poetry lacked passion, light and air, etc. "I'm so happy," explained John, "that all I can write about is how giddily, dizzyingly happy I am, and it always comes out sounding silly."
His mentor declared that what John needed was to obtain some poetic distance, and advised him to leave his wife. "That," the professor predicted, "is an excellent way to obtain perspective on such things."
John took his mentor's advice, and left Susan. "Only for awhile," he explained, "to see what it's like." Susan, who had GREat respect for John's artistic muse, agreed that it was the only thing to do. She was nevertheless tearful and regretful at their parting, and a very excellent emotional scene ensued, just the thing with which one might begin a career of passionate poetry.
John, living alone in the house he and Susan had shared, was inspired. He wrote notebook after notebook of poetry about what it was like to lose his lovely wife, and what it was like to live alone in the house they had shared, and what it was like to write poetry about a lost love. His poetry, though not yet GREat, was tinged with hints of passion; it sometimes contained elements of pure air and light; it even made vague gestures concerning the eternal void, and the eternal light.
John was enthusiastic about the quality of his work, and wrote feverishly for several weeks, until the date set for his reunion with his wife arrived. At first he found her affection and her heightened admiration for his new work to be irritating distractions, but soon he found himself settling into contented domestic life once more. The fiery muse which had filled his poetry with vitality left him, and he could only write about what it was like to be reunited with his lovely wife. However, John was still very happy, as he did have his wife back, and very many of his new poems had been accepted for publication.
One day Susan returned to their house after a trip to the market, and saw on the dining room table an envelope with her name on it written in John's hand. Opening it, she found a note:
Dearest Susan,
GREat poetry, I have discovered, is about loss. It is the
unobtainable, the ever-sought, the drop of liquid fire at the center
of the ruby. When I lost you, when I dreamt of you every night, I
wrote poetry that was almost GREat.
Therefore, I have decided to go in search of the ultimate loss. I
have lived a life filled with love, and happiness, and contentment;
I have loved my life even more than I have loved you. Truthfully,
I am not sure what will happen now, but if there is an afterlife, I
will be the GREatest poet Heaven has ever known. (Or Hell---poetry
being both torture and bliss, it will make very little difference.)
I will achieve in death what I could not achieve in life, because
for me life was too happy to allow for GREat poetry.
I know you will understand; you have always known how important this
one goal has been to me. I love you very much, and I know that you
love me, and so you will obey this last request: please, please do
not come upstairs. There will be a mess, and it will be an
unnecessary unpleasantness for you, as it will certainly be too
late.
With love and apologies,
John.
年轻诗人之荒诞故事
作者：琳德赛 泊拉可
翻译：应中革
从前一个年轻人名叫约翰 乔治。他在一个安静舒适的城镇成长，一直来生活安稳，学业平平，而且当他长大成人后有一份体面的家业等着他。21岁时，他深刻地反思了生活道路，他感到非常失望。约翰想当大诗人的愿望认真而且严肃。而平静而舒适的生活不可能孕育伟大的诗篇。因此，约翰就去找导师，他的导师是附近一个很小的大学里的教授。见到导师，他就说了自己的难题：“我要写伟大的诗句，充满激情的诗句，用阳光和空气造就的诗句，在我们大家之间能唤起一个有永恒空间情感的诗句，在那永恒的空间里有一盞永久光照的明灯。”
“很好。”教授说。
“但是，我从来没有遇到一件事能让我感兴趣。”约翰继续说他的难题。
他的导师建议他体验谈恋爱。
“恋爱是人生道路上最令人感兴趣的体验之一。”他的导师皱起眉头，停了一下补充说，“我听说恋爱就是这样。”
约翰把导师的忠告牢记在心里，来到了一个离自己的小镇不远的一个大成市，开始找女朋友了。他走遍的表演厅、俱乐部、联欢会、咖啡厅。整整寻觅了一星期，他终于看上了一个女孩，她在吃晚饭时总是坐在约翰隔壁那张餐桌。约翰爱上了她。他向女孩作了自我介绍，给她读一些自己写的最不糟糕的诗稿。有粘附感的玻璃桌面两边的男女很快就梦幻般地眉来眼去，互相凝视。
相处一个月，约翰娶了这位女孩。她叫苏珊。真难以置信，小俩口日子过得非常幸福。苏珊听着他那普普通通的诗句，激动得热血沸腾，而且约翰一心一意要当诗人的决心深深地感动了她。而约翰，以前从来没有自己的女人，现在深深地迷恋苏珊，沉醉在她那些使人喘不过气来的赞扬声中。他感到这么幸福，以至迫不及待做诗抒发幸福感受，描绘欣喜若狂的生活和热情洋溢的知己。华丽而冗长的诗句填满一本以一本，这是光辉灿烂的幸福诗句，但是，这不是好诗。没有激情，并非阳光和空气造就，不能在我们之间能唤起一个有永恒空间情感，更没有永久光照的明灯。
约翰回去找导师，抱怨地说了自己真的恋爱了，结婚，生活非常幸福，有很多东西好写。但是自己的诗还是缺少激情，没有阳光和空气，等等。约翰解释说，“我非常幸福，结果我只能写自己享乐得如何眼花缭乱，头昏眼花。这些诗句听起来总是很无聊。”
导师断言，约翰需要获取诗境，建议他离开妻子。导师预言，“这是获得洞察生活的绝妙办法。”
