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So You Want To Be A Writer? by Charles Bukowski
所以你想當個作家？
如果它不是從你裡面爆出來
不管任何其他，
不然就別寫。
除非它不被要求就從你的
心臟你的腦袋你的嘴巴
和你的五臟六腑冒出來，
不然就別寫。
如果你必須坐好幾個小時
盯著你的電腦螢幕
或是藉著打字機
探求靈感，
搜尋字詞，
那就別寫。
如果你寫是為了錢或
名聲，
那就別寫。
如果你寫是因為想要
床上有女人，
那就別寫。
如果你必須坐在那兒
一遍又一遍地修改，
那就別寫。
如果一想到要寫就覺得是苦差事，
那就別寫。
如果你試著寫得像某個
人，
算了吧你。
如果你必須等它從你裡面嘶吼出
來，
那耐心等待。
如果它從不，
那做些其他的。
如果你必須先讀給你妻子
或是你女友或是你男友
或是你父母或是任何其他人，
那你還沒準備好。
不要像其他許多作家，
不要像那許許多多
稱自己為作家的人，
不要變得乏味無趣和
三八兮兮，不要對自愛自憐
感到著迷。
世界的文庫已經
對像你們這樣的人
都打呵欠到
睡死了。
別加入那些，
別寫。
除非它從你的靈魂
出來就像個火箭，
除非靜止不動會
讓你發狂或是
殺掉自己或是殺掉其他人，
不然就別寫。
除非你裡面的熱度
將你的臟腑幾乎燒毀，
不然就別寫。
當真到時候了，
而你已被挑選，
它會自己
寫出來並且持續下去
直到你死或是它
死在你裡面。
沒有其他方法了。
從來就沒有過。
原文：
So You Want To Be A Writer? by Charles Bukowski
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in
you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
Bukowski, Charles. 2003. New Poems Book 1. London: Virgin Books Ltd.
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※ 編輯: hahastarr 來自: 210.54.148.202 (04/07 09:17)