诗是来自内心的东西,和梦是手足。——托马斯·特朗斯特罗姆我已经有一年没做梦了。从上一次葬礼到现在,不多不少,恰好整整一年。在此之前,因埋头研究阿兹特克帝国的金星历、艾克哈特大师的《讲道录》和乔维斯的《奇迹之书》,我反复梦见那个美丽的女人。她两片半透明的眼睑好像摹画用的油竹纸,皮肤苍白得近乎病态,能够凭一个吻将人焚毁。如今我知道,她大概属于 Poetry is from the heart of things, and dreams are hand and foot. - Thomas Tronstrom I have not had a dream for a year now. From the last funeral until now, not many, exactly exactly one year. Prior to that, I repeatedly dreamed of the beautiful woman because I was deeply immersed in studying the Aztec Calendar of the Aztec Empire, Master Eckhardt’s Book of Preachers and Couchis’s Book of Miracles. Her two translucent eyelids resemble oily paper, pale and almost pale skin, capable of burning people with a kiss. Now I know that she probably belonged