Richard Blanco
被白宮指定在奧巴馬連任就職大典上朗誦詩歌的美國詩人理查布蘭科。美國總統就職大典的曆史中，隻有五位詩人被邀請過，他是最年輕的一位。
理查是拉美裔，父母是古巴人，他出生於西班牙。理查不僅是一位不為人知的少數族裔，他還是一名同性戀。奧巴馬親自參與了篩選工作，他對理查的出席非常滿意。
奧巴馬稱，他十分榮幸理查能在他和副總統就職大典上朗誦，這不單純是理查對美國詩歌的貢獻，更體現的美國的力量和民族的多元！
理查詩歌選讀：
Place of Mind
Mist haunts the city, tears of rain fall
from the awnings and window ledges.
The search for myself begins an echo
drifting away the moment I arrive.
From the awnings and window ledges
follow the rain flowing down the streets.
The moment I arrive, I drift away:
Why am I always imagining the sea?
Follow the rain flowing down the streets
vanishing into the mouths of gutters.
Why am I always imagining the sea?
A breath, a wave—a breath, a wave.
Vanishing into the mouths of gutters,
rain becomes lake, river, ocean again.
A breath, a wave—a breath, a wave
always beginning, yet always ending.
Rain becomes lake, river, ocean, again
mist haunts the city, tears of rain fall
always ending, yet always beginning,
the search for myself ends in an echo.
Of Consequence, Inconsequently
A bearded shepherd in a gray wool vest,
a beret lowered to his brow, that's how
my blood has always imagined the man
who was my great-grandfather, his eyes
hazel, I was told once. But I'll never see
what he saw of his life in the cold rivers
of Asturias. I can only imagine the fog
caressing the hills of his village and him
watching from the window of the train
he took to Sevilla—for love, my mother
explained to me once, holding a ghost
of him in a photo on his wedding day
with an ascot tie and buttoned shoes
standing in a room filled with mahogany
and red roses. Were they red? What color
were the tiers of Spanish lace cascading
from my great-grandmother's dress?
Nothing can speak for them now, tell me
what they saw in their eyes that morning
they left for love or war or both, crossing
the sea to Cuban palms and cane fields
quietly sweetening under the quite sun.
But what if they'd never met, what color
would my eyes be? Who would I be now
had they gone to Johanne*****urg instead,
or Maracaibo, or not left Sevilla at all?
Into what seas would I have cast thoughts,
what other cities would I've drowned in?
The countries I would've lost, or betrayed,
the languages I would speak or not speak,
the names that would've been my names—
I'd like to believe I've willed every detail
of my life, but I'm a consequence, a drop
of rain, a seed fallen by chance, here
in the middle of a story I don't know,
having to finish it and call it my own.
請閱讀更多我的博客文章>>>
