10月21日上午，2016凤凰·鼓浪屿诗歌节第二天，主题为“个人化写作与外来文化影响”的诗歌国际论坛在鼓浪屿举办。诗人赵野，赵四，李少君，树才，李元胜，默默，韩庆成，廖伟棠，林于弘、黄冈、加拿大诗人洛尔娜·克罗奇（Lorna Crozier），英国诗人李道（Richard Bruns），印度汉学学者、诗人普利亚达西·墨普德教授、韩国翻译家金泰成等人在论坛做出精彩又有见地的发言。论坛由诗人、翻译家、评论家汪剑釗和诗人北塔主持。
Writingon the Island——Lecture on Forum of the Kulangsu Poetry Festival 2016
I was namedby my grandfather after my hometown before my family went to Taiwan in 1949. Iwas born in Taiwan, a place like a bit of phlegm in the throat of my nostalgicgrandfather, viscous and sticky. The name loaded with implications follows meeverywhere, embraces my era, destiny, and merge with my new hometown, Taiwan.
My hometownhas become imbalanced in today’s economic development and suffered from thedisasters of typhoon and mudslide. At the same time, I witnessed that themagnificent culture of my hometown was turned into an inanimate misery underthe so-called rescue of the public sector. I have also come across some roverssuch as hunters, bards, artists, exiled writers as well as my relatives whoseexperiences can support several novels.
Peng is myfriend who used to be a hunter. He generously shared his hunting experience inmountains with me. Peng determined to be a hunter at 25 and lived in hisancestors’ hut in mountains. However, he told me that he was going to be abus-driver in Taipei (to make more money). The reason was that he needed toraise his child and could not be so selfish to stay in the hut. I can’t helpimagining that the place where I met him many years later would be in the busin Taipei, and his eyes were no longer sparkling. And the scar in the corner ofhis eyes was the only feature that I could recognize him. Then, I found thatbeing a hunter is something embarrassing to tell others, just like being apoet. It is a secret in mind because once you utter it, you are bluntly facedwith the question whether it is possible to earn a living as a hunter, or poet.
As SeamusHeaney has put, poetry is elegant, dolorous and insignificant. And I believethat every poem written in the night will be just like that. However, the powerof poets’ and writers’ writing is great enough to vibrate the world. Only in mylater life did I find that the anxiety of every poet is caused by himself.However, in their essence, a poet must answer and react to the world, so as tobe a conscientious being. Heaney has given me the most appropriate explanation:we don’t need to imagine to change the world and what we can do is to be a poetwho is responsible for himself and the society.
When I amengaged in writing, the depression of the street youths, the middle class isboiling on the island. This depression, together with spout contributes to thehot semi-tropical land. I continuously pay attention to this emotion and carryon with my writing. However, the more I write, the more terrible the situationis, and I increasingly feel that there isn’t the so called literature in theworld. Writing is regarded as literature because of life, hunger and thirst.Just as the frescos in the Gorges de l’Ardeche, they are the masterpieces toextol hunger by ancient people. As a result, a reindeer painted by human handsis art and the Chu-ci poem Nine Songs derivedfrom the author’s concern of death and sacrifice ceremonies is a literalclassic. In light of the value of poems, Heaney once quoted the Robert Frost’sexplanation: there is a moment when poems rein up the chaos. Heaney said thatreining up is just like a barrier that only stays for a moment and offers acertain order but does not leave a mark behind.
I can’tprevent prejudice and discrimination, or a new development, but to be a hunterstanding on the ridge is as hard as to be an excellent poet. Writing andhunting are just like double-edged swords which will not only consume youspirit and time, but bring little economic benefits, or marketable, commercialopportunities. Nevertheless, the common thing between poet and hunter is thatit can keep back the chaos in humans at some time. Although the game cannotkeep all the tribe away from hunger, it fed human beings for millions of years.I cannot block the spread of neoliberalism by writing, but I can preserve theethos of a nationality.
I alwaysremember where I came from roving around tribes. Every nation sails in andsails to Taiwan. Writing breads up my spirit and I hope that writing can solacesome souls. For the living, it is blessing and invocation; for the dead, it ismourning and oration.