我喜歡旅行，計劃有一天能成為職業的旅行者/流浪者。因為，人生就是一次一次地走近，一次一次的離開。
我喜歡旅行，它總是帶給我來自不期而遇的驚喜。雖然，我從不隨從導遊書旅遊。因為，我要求自己每到一個地方，一定要很精確地知道我要去哪裏看什麽？甚至要知道我要看的那一個藝術品在展覽館的具體房間和位置。但是，每一次，在我的安排之外，總是有上天厚賜的邂逅。
法國小說家Marcel Proust說：“旅行不隻是發現一道新的風景，而是發現一雙新的眼睛“。這次，在比利時，在千年的布魯日小城，有一雙新的眼睛以百年的等待注視著我。
Guido Pieter Theodorus Josephus Gezelle (1 May 1830 – 27 November 1899)，是十九世紀最有有影響力的佛蘭芒語(荷蘭語)作家，詩人。同時,他也是一位天主教神父，教育家，翻譯家。
Guido Gezelle出生在比利時西佛蘭德省West Flanders布魯日一個貧民家庭。他在布魯日讀的中學和神學院。畢業後，在神學院任教。
Guido Gezelle博物館建在他叔叔的故居裏。走進院子，濃鬱的綠色，立刻把人拉入另一個生命的世界。
Guido Gezelle終生熱愛語言學，他一生用他摯愛的荷蘭語寫詩歌，散文。並且，也把大量的英文，德文，意大利語詩歌，散文翻譯成荷蘭語。
在離開博物館的瞬間，我突然覺得這萬裏之行的另一個意義就是：一步一步地走到這裏，和百年前的一個靈魂在永恒裏相遇。進入永恒，也走近自己。
在永恒裏，100年如此刻一般活鮮，如現在一樣真實。
最後，付兩首我喜歡的被翻譯成英文的Guido Gazelle的詩，和你一同再次進入詩人的靈魂
Song Of The Hearth
Welcome Winter, how cracks your ice?
Fills your snow the valleys?
I have here spring thaw at the hearth
And no fire to fetch.
Blow you storm, through the firmament?
Wall and roof can bare it.
Pour you dampness down in streams?
My glass shall aside it put.
Shrinks the day? then less necessity
By light to yawn.
Stretches the night? then suits him well
Who together will sleep.
Does the garden no sappy fruit
On my table shine?
Dry fare does just as well digest,
With more ample drink.
Pour then, Winter, with your damp;
Storm and freeze outside;
Drive your light flakes around,
In front of my closed windows;
Give us but half our rations this day,
And one dish less;
High-spirited, with song and wine,
Of no hinder I complain.
The Night And The Rose
I have many an hour with you worn out and enjoyed
and never has an hour with you bored me for a moment.
I have many a flower for you
read and given, and, like a bee, with you, with you,
drank honey from it; but never an hour as sweet with you,
as long as it could last, but never an hour as sad for you,
when I had to leave you, as the hour when I close to you,
that night, sitting down, heard you talking and said to you
that which our souls know. Never a flower as beautiful from you
sought, picked, read, like that night that shimmered on you,
and I could call my own. And just as well, as well for me as you,
-who will cure this evil?- an hour with me, an hour with you,
wasn’t allowed to be an hour for long;
And just as well for me, and just as well for you, so endearing and exalted,
the rose, even if it was a rose from you, wasn’t allowed to be a rose for long,
yet long preserved, this I say to you, even if I’d lose it all,
my heart three treasured images: you, the night and the rose.
