诗的材料文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
叶圣陶文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
今天清早进公园，闻到一阵清香，就往荷花池边跑。荷花已经开了不少了。荷叶挨挨挤挤的，像一个个大圆盘，碧绿的面，淡绿的底。白荷花在这些大圆盘之间冒出来，有的才展开两三片花瓣儿。有的花瓣儿全都展开了，露出嫩黄色的小莲蓬。有的还是花骨朵儿，看起来饱胀得马上要破裂似的。文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
这么多的白荷花，有姿态完全相同的吗？没有，一朵有一朵的姿势。看看这一朵，很美，看看那一朵，也很美，都可以画写生画儿。我家隔壁张家挂着四条齐白石先生的画儿，全是荷花，墨笔画的。我数过，四条总共画了十五朵，朵朵不一样，朵朵都好看。如果把眼前这一池的荷叶荷花看作一大幅活的画儿，那画家的本领比齐白石先生更大了。那画家是谁呢……文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
我忽然觉得自己仿佛就是一朵荷花。一身雪白的衣裳，透着清香。阳光照着我，我解开衣裳，敞着胸膛，舒坦极了。一阵风吹来，我就迎风舞蹈，雪白的衣裳随风飘动。不光是我一朵，一池的荷花都在舞蹈呢，这不就像电影《天鹅湖》里许多天鹅一齐舞蹈的场面吗？风过了，我停止舞蹈，静静地站在那儿。蜻蜓飞过来，告诉我清早飞行的快乐。小鱼在下边游过，告诉我昨晚做的好梦……文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
几个朋友在池对岸喊我，我才记起我是我，我不是荷花。文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/10800.html
忽然觉得自己仿佛是另外一种东西，这种情形以前也有过。有一天早上，在学校里看牵牛花，朵朵都有饭碗大，那紫色鲜明极了，镶上一道白边儿，更显得好看。我看得出了神，觉得自己仿佛就是一朵牵牛花，朝着可爱的阳光，仰起圆圆的笑脸。还有一回，在公园里看金鱼，看得出了神，觉得自己仿佛就是一条金鱼。胸鳍像小扇子，轻轻地扇着，大尾巴比绸子还要柔软，慢慢地摆动。水里没有一点儿声音，静极了，静极了……
我觉得这种情形是诗的材料，可以拿来作诗。作诗，我要试试看――当然还要好好地想。
The Source Material of Poetry
Ye Shengtao
Early this morning, I went to the park. Drawn by a waft of fragrant scent, I quickened my steps towards the lotus pond. Many of the plants had begun to bloom: white flowers rose above an expanse of closely-knit disc-like leaves with dark green top sides and light green undersides; some were fully open, revealing the tender yellow seedpods in the middle; some had only two or three petals spread out; others were still in bud, looking so full that I was afraid they were going to burst at any moment.
Of all the white lotus flowers here, did any two hold the same posture? No, each was different from the others, yet each looked as beautiful as any other, all just waiting to be painted. As I remember, on the wall of my neighbor’s house hung four ink wash paintings of lotus flowers by Qi Baishi. I once counted the flowers in them: there were altogether fifteen of them, each delightful and charming in its own way. If I regard the sight unrolling before me as a living lotus painting, it would certainly outshine Qi’s works. But who is the painter?
I am suddenly seized by a vision: I become a lotus flower. I am clad in snow-white from head to toe, giving off a faint scent. Bathed in the sunlight, I unbutton my clothes and release myself, lost in ecstasy. As a gust of wind happens to blow my way, I greet it with a dance, my white dress fluttering in the air. I am not alone; all the other flowers join me, a vivid replica of the ensemble dance scene in Swan Lake. The wind ceases, I stand there, quiet and still. A dragonfly flies by, telling me about this happy morning flight. A small fish swims underneath, telling me about the pleasant dream he had last night…
My thoughts were interrupted when my friends called me from the other side of the pond. I was myself again, no longer a lotus flower.
Such illusions of becoming something other than myself are not new to me. I have had similar experiences before. One morning, I was watching morning glories on campus. The blossoms opened as big as rice bowls, and had a bright purple color with white edges. I got so enchanted with their beauty I felt I had become one of them, giving a round-faced smile to the sun. Another time, watching golden fish in a park, I also had the fantasy that I became a fish, my breast fins waving like small fans and my tail fluttering softly as silk. In the water there was no sound, all was hushed, silence prevailed…
I believe such illusions are the source material of poetry. Yes, I will try my hand at one or two poems, but of course, only after I give the matter more thought.
（李运兴 译）
