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When in London, you should never miss the chance of paying a visit to Westminster Abbey, for it is a showplace of British culture and history. But for my first visit there, I was unlucky enough to find the gate slammed in my face.
It so happened that the Queen died on that day, and the whole nation was sorry forher death. Many people took bunches of fresh flowers, laying them on the lawn, to show their grief. In Westminster Abbey, people were preparing the Queen’s funeral ceremony, so they declined visitors. I could only wander outside the door of the store which sold souvenirs1, and in the end I took a photo of the sign that read CLOSED.
I visited again on another weekend. At the gate, an entrance guard was busy selling the beautifully designed and bound books for travelers.
“Where is the Poets’ Corner?” I asked him, “Is it behind the graveyard?” Ithought the Poets’Corner as the Music Corner in the Ceme－tery of Vienna, where lay the artistic geniuses of the ages, under the blue sky and white clouds, among thegreen grass and fresh flowers.
“There is no graveyard here. The Poets’ Corner is in the Southern Hall!” He answered.
Soon I got to the Poets’ Corner. Filled with astonish－ment2, suddenly I remembered a few lines I wrote about the Cemetery of Vienna, which could express my sentiment at the moment. It reads：The living are doomed to miss meeting the ancient people in different ages, no matter how you admire or worship them, and however deeply they influence you. You can merely get to know them through books and historical documents.
But here, in Westminster Abbey, in such a place called the Poets’ Corner, suddenly you can be with them, face to face, though speechlessly.
This feeling can be described by the epitaph3 for the great poet and playwright T. S. Eliot— “The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.” Personally, I feel it is not only for Eliot but for all the other lit－erary giants who sleep their long sleep with him.
Deep in thought, I looked around, with a feeling of shaking hands with those geniuses, from the bottom of my heart.
人到伦敦，威斯敏斯特大教堂是一定要拜访的，因为它是英国文化历史的大观园。 第一次出差到伦敦的时候，却吃了一记闭门羹。
原来那个周末，正是英国女王逝世日，举国哀悼，很多英国的民众，带了鲜花，堆在了威斯敏斯特大教堂草地上。而威斯敏斯特大教堂则谢绝访客，为女王准备葬礼。 于是，我只好在威斯敏斯特大教堂的纪念品商店门口走来走去，百无聊赖，最后将威斯敏斯特大教堂闭馆的通知拍照留念。
这一次去，也是周末。门口，有门卫在出售装帧精美的威斯敏斯特大教堂旅游书籍。
我问他：“诗人角在哪里？在后面的墓地吗？”我以为威斯敏斯特大教堂中的诗人角和维也纳公墓中的音乐角那样，蓝天白云之下、青草鲜花之中，聚集着古往今来的艺术天才。
“这里没有户外墓地，诗人角在威斯敏斯特大教堂的南耳堂。”他答道。
到了诗人角，震惊和讶异之余，突然想起自己在维也纳公墓中写过的一段文字，稍改几个字，恰恰也反映了现在的心情。那段文字是：今天，我们还活者的人注定了无缘拜访生活在不同时期的古人，无论你对他们是如何的崇拜，如何的仰慕，也无论他们是如何深刻地影响着你生命的轨迹。你从来只能在书本上体会，在历史中寻觅。
可是，在这里，在威斯敏斯特大教堂一个叫“诗人角”的地方，你却突然与他们同在，虽然无言以对，却没有任何距离。
这种感觉，如同诗人角中的一段墓志铭所写：“亡灵们用火传递胸臆，远远超越了人类语言的桎梏。”这段墓志铭虽然是献给英国诗人、剧作家艾略特的，却也同时为所有排列在此地的英伦文豪们所作。
我一边观看，一边默想，一边在心里与英伦的文豪们握手。
摘译自Traveling
It so happened that the Queen died on that day, and the whole nation was sorry forher death. Many people took bunches of fresh flowers, laying them on the lawn, to show their grief. In Westminster Abbey, people were preparing the Queen’s funeral ceremony, so they declined visitors. I could only wander outside the door of the store which sold souvenirs1, and in the end I took a photo of the sign that read CLOSED.
I visited again on another weekend. At the gate, an entrance guard was busy selling the beautifully designed and bound books for travelers.
“Where is the Poets’ Corner?” I asked him, “Is it behind the graveyard?” Ithought the Poets’Corner as the Music Corner in the Ceme－tery of Vienna, where lay the artistic geniuses of the ages, under the blue sky and white clouds, among thegreen grass and fresh flowers.
“There is no graveyard here. The Poets’ Corner is in the Southern Hall!” He answered.
Soon I got to the Poets’ Corner. Filled with astonish－ment2, suddenly I remembered a few lines I wrote about the Cemetery of Vienna, which could express my sentiment at the moment. It reads：The living are doomed to miss meeting the ancient people in different ages, no matter how you admire or worship them, and however deeply they influence you. You can merely get to know them through books and historical documents.
But here, in Westminster Abbey, in such a place called the Poets’ Corner, suddenly you can be with them, face to face, though speechlessly.
This feeling can be described by the epitaph3 for the great poet and playwright T. S. Eliot— “The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.” Personally, I feel it is not only for Eliot but for all the other lit－erary giants who sleep their long sleep with him.
Deep in thought, I looked around, with a feeling of shaking hands with those geniuses, from the bottom of my heart.
人到伦敦，威斯敏斯特大教堂是一定要拜访的，因为它是英国文化历史的大观园。 第一次出差到伦敦的时候，却吃了一记闭门羹。
原来那个周末，正是英国女王逝世日，举国哀悼，很多英国的民众，带了鲜花，堆在了威斯敏斯特大教堂草地上。而威斯敏斯特大教堂则谢绝访客，为女王准备葬礼。 于是，我只好在威斯敏斯特大教堂的纪念品商店门口走来走去，百无聊赖，最后将威斯敏斯特大教堂闭馆的通知拍照留念。
这一次去，也是周末。门口，有门卫在出售装帧精美的威斯敏斯特大教堂旅游书籍。
我问他：“诗人角在哪里？在后面的墓地吗？”我以为威斯敏斯特大教堂中的诗人角和维也纳公墓中的音乐角那样，蓝天白云之下、青草鲜花之中，聚集着古往今来的艺术天才。
“这里没有户外墓地，诗人角在威斯敏斯特大教堂的南耳堂。”他答道。
到了诗人角，震惊和讶异之余，突然想起自己在维也纳公墓中写过的一段文字，稍改几个字，恰恰也反映了现在的心情。那段文字是：今天，我们还活者的人注定了无缘拜访生活在不同时期的古人，无论你对他们是如何的崇拜，如何的仰慕，也无论他们是如何深刻地影响着你生命的轨迹。你从来只能在书本上体会，在历史中寻觅。
可是，在这里，在威斯敏斯特大教堂一个叫“诗人角”的地方，你却突然与他们同在，虽然无言以对，却没有任何距离。
这种感觉，如同诗人角中的一段墓志铭所写：“亡灵们用火传递胸臆，远远超越了人类语言的桎梏。”这段墓志铭虽然是献给英国诗人、剧作家艾略特的，却也同时为所有排列在此地的英伦文豪们所作。
我一边观看，一边默想，一边在心里与英伦的文豪们握手。
摘译自Traveling