閱讀、夢、省思 ..Reading、Dreams、Reflections..

美國詩人Walt Whitman (1819–1892)在一手熱情的歌誦長詩I Sing the Body Electric (我歌頌令人振奮的身體)中寫到

我發現和自己喜歡的人在一起便已足夠，
晚上與人們作伴便已足夠，
和美麗、好奇、活生生、笑個不停的人在一起便已足夠
(略)

我不再要求更多的歡娛，
我正在歡娛的海洋中游泳，
和男男女女親近，看著他們，
碰觸他們，聞他們，靈魂無比喜悅。

萬事萬物都能娛悦靈魂，但是這樣的娛悦是最美妙。


我很喜歡的女媽媽作家渥博(Sandol Stoddard Warburg) 的 I LIKE YOU 說的更好更直接，人間最普便最基本的快樂便是友誼；以下的詩(ISBN：957-32-3449-1)，我買了很多本，分送給了不少朋友。裡面有很可愛的插圖喲！


我喜歡你 而且 我知道為什麼
我喜歡你 因為 你是一個好人 逗人喜歡
我喜歡你 因為 當我告訴你一見特別的事
你就知道他是特別的 而且 你會記得 很久 很久
你說 記得嗎？你以前告訴我那見特別的事
這樣 我們兩個就都記得
當我認為某一件事重要
你也會認為它重要

當我說好笑的話 你就笑
我覺得自己好笑 你也覺得我是好笑的

我喜歡你 因為 你知道我哪裡怕癢
你不會來搔我那裡
但是 有時候 你會來搔那麼一下下
不過 如果你來搔我 我也知道要搔你哪裡

你很會裝傻 所以我喜歡你
真的 你是傻瓜一個
再遇見你之前
我沒有碰過比我更笨更傻的
我喜歡你 因為
你知道適可而止 不再裝傻
可能是後天
可能永不停止
哇---太遲了
已經傻過頭了

我們總是一起鬼混
有時候我們默不作聲
在籬笆下擠來擠去
偷看秘密的地方

如果我在屋頂上發瘋
大叫大鬧
你也會和我一樣
如果我假裝快要淹死了
你就會假裝來救我
如果我準備要拍打紙袋
那你就會預備好要被我嚇一跳

那是因為你真的喜歡我
你真的喜歡我對不對
那我也真的喜歡你
你喜歡我 我喜歡你
每天 不停的
我們就這樣 喜歡來喜歡去

如果你出去旅行
那麼我也出去旅行
要是我留在家
你就會寄張卡片給我
你不會只是說 再見啦 有空再連絡
就因為這樣 我很喜歡你
如果我去旅行
我也會寄卡片給你
我喜歡你 如果我們一起去旅行
如果我們在中央車站
如果我們失散了
你就會大聲呼叫我 嘿 你在哪裡
我在這裡

我喜歡你 因為
當我覺得悲傷時
你不會老是要我立刻高興起來
有時候難過比較好
要是有人每一分鐘都不停的吱吱喳喳
你一定受不了
你要想事情 那需要時間

我喜歡你 因為 如果我生你的氣
你也生我的氣
要是你生別人的氣
別人根本不在乎
那實在太難受了

有些人太好了 呵呵
好的讓你想要揍他一拳
打在他鼻子上

我喜歡你 因為 如果
我要吐了 你會覺得很難過
你不會只是假裝忙的東張西望
看鳥啊什麼的
你會說 恐怕是吃錯了什麼東西吧
你會說 我也吃錯過東西
而且也是這樣

如果你找到兩顆幸運草
你會給我一棵
如果我找到四棵幸運草
我會給你兩棵
有時，我們運氣好
有時，我們不那麼好運

如果我的手骨折了 而且
你的手也骨折了
那麼骨折就好玩了
我告訴你我的經驗
你告訴我你的經驗
我們兩個都覺得可憐

我們寫上我們的名字
而且畫圖在上面
我們秀給大家看 讓他們都恨不得手臂也骨折

我喜歡你 因為
我不知道為什麼 但是
不管發生什麼事
只要有你在
總是比較好
我記不起來有什麼時候我不喜歡你
如果有 那一定寂寞死了
我喜歡你 因為 因為 因為
我忘了我為什麼喜歡你
但是我是喜歡你的
理由可多了

七月四日我喜歡你
因為那是七月四日
七月五日我也喜歡你

如果我們有個鼓
有幾支喇叭和給匹馬
如果我們有帽子
旗子和救火車
我們就可以有個放假日
我們就可以慶祝啦
我們可以來各大遊行
你明白我的意思嗎？

即使是七月的第九百九十九日
即使是八月
即使是十一月底底底
即使是一月的隨便哪一天
我還是會選擇你
而且你也會選擇我
再選 再選
還是都一樣
每一次都是這樣
我不知道為什麼

真的 我想 我不知道我為什麼喜歡你
為什麼我喜歡你
我想 我就是喜歡你
我想 我就是喜歡你
因為我喜歡你



I Sing the Body Electric原文：(下面還有I LIKE YOU 原文)

I SING the Body electric; The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them; They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul. Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves; 5 And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead? And if the body does not do as much as the Soul? And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?
2

The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account; That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect. 10 The expression of the face balks account; But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists; It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees—dress does not hide him; The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel; 15 To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more; You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side. The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards, The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water, The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats—the horseman in his saddle, 20 Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances, The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting, The female soothing a child—the farmer’s daughter in the garden or cow-yard, The young fellow hoeing corn—the sleigh-driver guiding his six horses through the crowd, The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty, good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown, after work, 25 The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance, The upper-hold and the under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes; The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps, The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again, and the listening on the alert, The natural, perfect, varied attitudes—the bent head, the curv’d neck, and the counting; 30 Such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother’s breast with the little child, Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, and count.
3

I know a man, a common farmer—the father of five sons; And in them were the fathers of sons—and in them were the fathers of sons. This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person; 35 The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, and the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes—the richness and breadth of his manners, These I used to go and visit him to see—he was wise also; He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old—his sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome; They and his daughters loved him—all who saw him loved him; They did not love him by allowance—they loved him with personal love; 40 He drank water only—the blood show’d like scarlet through the clear-brown skin of his face; He was a frequent gunner and fisher—he sail’d his boat himself—he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner—he had fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that loved him; When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish, you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang. You would wish long and long to be with him—you would wish to sit by him in the boat, that you and he might touch each other.
4

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough, 45 To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then? I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea. There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well; 50 All things please the soul—but these please the soul well.
5

This is the female form; A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot; It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction! I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself and it; 55 Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed; Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it—the response likewise ungovernable; Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffused—mine too diffused; Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching; Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice; 60 Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn; Undulating into the willing and yielding day, Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day. This is the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, the man is born of woman; This is the bath of birth—this is the merge of small and large, and the outlet again. 65 Be not ashamed, women—your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest; You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul. The female contains all qualities, and tempers them—she is in her place, and moves with perfect balance; She is all things duly veil’d—she is both passive and active; She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters. 70 As I see my soul reflected in nature; As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and beauty, See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast—the female I see.
6

The male is not less the soul, nor more—he too is in his place; He too is all qualities—he is action and power; 75 The flush of the known universe is in him; Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well; The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is utmost, become him well—pride is for him; The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul; Knowledge becomes him—he likes it always—he brings everything to the test of himself; 80 Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes soundings at last only here; (Where else does he strike soundings, except here?) The man’s body is sacred, and the woman’s body is sacred; No matter who it is, it is sacred; Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf? 85 Each belongs here or anywhere, just as much as the well-off—just as much as you; Each has his or her place in the procession. (All is a procession; The universe is a procession, with measured and beautiful motion.) Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave or the dull-face ignorant? 90 Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no right to a sight? Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float—and the soil is on the surface, and water runs, and vegetation sprouts, For you only, and not for him and her?
7

A man’s Body at auction; I help the auctioneer—the sloven does not half know his business. 95 Gentlemen, look on this wonder! Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high enough for it; For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years, without one animal or plant; For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll’d. In this head the all-baffling brain; 100 In it and below it, the makings of heroes. Examine these limbs, red, black, or white—they are so cunning in tendon and nerve; They shall be stript, that you may see them. Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition, Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck, flesh not flabby, good-sized arms and legs, 105 And wonders within there yet. Within there runs blood, The same old blood! The same red-running blood! There swells and jets a heart—there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations; 110 Do you think they are not there because they are not express’d in parlors and lecture-rooms? This is not only one man—this is the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns; In him the start of populous states and rich republics; Of him countless immortal lives, with countless embodiments and enjoyments. How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries? 115 Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace back through the centuries?
8

A woman’s Body at auction! She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers; She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers. Have you ever loved the Body of a woman? 120 Have you ever loved the Body of a man? Your father—where is your father? Your mother—is she living? have you been much with her? and has she been much with you? —Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all nations and times, all over the earth? If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred, 125 And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted; And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face. Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body? For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.
9

O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you; 130 I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the Soul, (and that they are the Soul;) I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems—and that they are poems, Man’s, woman’s, child’s, youth’s, wife’s, husband’s, mother’s, father’s, young man’s, young woman’s poems; Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears, Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eye-brows, and the waking or sleeping of the lids, 135 Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-hinges, Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition, Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue, Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the ample side-round of the chest. Upper-arm, arm-pit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews, arm-bones, 140 Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, fore-finger, finger-balls, finger-joints, finger-nails, Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-side, Ribs, belly, back-bone, joints of the back-bone, Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls, man-root, Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above, 145 Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under leg, Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel; All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body, or of any one’s body, male or female, The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean, The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame, 150 Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity, Womanhood, and all that is a woman—and the man that comes from woman, The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings, The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud, Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming, 155 Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening, The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes, The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair, The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body, The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in and out, 160 The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees, The thin red jellies within you, or within me—the bones, and the marrow in the bones, The exquisite realization of health; O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul, O I say now these are the Soul!



I Like You/ By Sandol Stoddard Warburg

I like you and I know why
I like you because you are a good person to like

I like you because when I tell you something special
You know it's special and you remember it a long long time
You say
Remember?
When you told me something special
And both of us remember

When I think something is important
You think it's improtant too
We have good ideas when I say something funny
You laugh
I think I'm funny and you think I'm funny too
"Hah-Hah"

I like you because you know where I'm ticklish
And you don't tickle me there except just a little tiny bit sometimes
"Stop! Stop Stop! Help! Help!"
But if you do then I know where to tickle you too
"Help!"

You know how to be silly
That's why I like you
Boy are you ever silly
I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you
I like you because you know when it's time to stop being silly
Maybe day after tomorrow
Maybe never
Oops too late
It's quarter past silly

We fool around the same way all the time
Sometimes we don't say a word
We snurkle under fences
We spy secret places

If I am a goofus on the roofus
Hollering my head off
You are one too

If I pretend I am drowning
You pretend you are saving me

If I am getting ready to pop a paper bag
Then you are getting ready to jump

That's because you really like me
You really like me don't you??
And I really like you back
And you like me back
And I like you back
And that's the way we keep on going everyday

If you go away then I go away too
Or if I stay home
You send me a postcard
You don't just say
"Well, see you around, some time, bye"
I like you a lot because of that
If I go away I send you a postcard too

And I like you because if we go away together
And if we are in Grand Central Station
And if I get lost then you are the one that is yelling for me
"Hey where are you"
"Here I am"

And I like you because when I am feeling sad
You don't always cheer me up right away
Sometimes it is better to be sad
You can't stand the others being so googly and gaggly every single minute
You want to think about things
It takes time

I like you because if I am mad at you
Then you are mad at me too
It's awful when the other person isn't
"Phooey"
They are so nice and hoo-hoo you could just about punch them in the nose

I like you because if I think I am going to throw up then you are really sorry
You don't just pretend you are busy looking at the dirdies and all that
You say maybe it was something you ate
You say "the same thing happened to me one time"
And the same thing did

If you find two four-leaf clovers
You give me one
If I find four
I give you two
If we only find three
We keep on looking
Sometimes we have good luck
And sometimes don't

If I break my arm and
If you break your arm too
Then it is fun to have a broken arm
I tell you about mine
You tell me about yours
We are both sorry
We write our names and draw pictures
We show every body and they wish they had a broken arm too

I like you because I don't know why
Everything that happens is nicer with you
I can't remember when I don't like you
It must have been lonesome then
I like you because because because I forget why I like you
But I do
So many reasons
On the Fourth of July I like you because it's the Fourth of July
On the Fifth of July I like you too

If you and I had some drums and some horns and some horses
If we had some hats and some flags and some fire-engines
We could be a HOLIDAY
We could be a CELEBRATION
We could be a WHOLE PARADE
See what I mean?

Even if it was the nine-hundred-and -ninety- ninth of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
Even if it was no place particular in January
I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again

That's how it would happen every time
I don't know why
I guess I don't know why I like you really
Why do I like you
I guess I just like you
I guess I just like you
Because I like you