Chapter 65 if i were a writer

If I were a writer, I only hope that when my work enters other people's minds, it is ordinary, indifferent, without saying a word; it passes like water, not worthy of praise, let alone criticism; When suffering or happiness comes, he will vaguely remember that this scene has been described in someone's words; at this time, I will shed tears of joy!If I were a writer, I would only wish my writings to be scorned—sneered at by all my companions and learned men at the same time; But children, farmers, and foolish women, after hearing it, bow their heads slowly and deeply Thinking deeply, I can hear "sympathy" drumming in their hearts; at this moment, I will shed tears of joy!If I were a writer, I only hope that my works will have no sound in the world, no one will criticize, let alone pay attention to; only I can rustle against the bright moonlight rain in the lonely day or late at night The wind, when reciting in a low voice, can reproduce a few pictures that are not blurred; at this time, I will shed tears of joy!If I were a writer, I only hope that my works will not show their light in the world, no one will hear them, no one will recite them, only my own sorrow, happiness, or alone facing the infinite nature, I can express freely, when my backlog When thoughts come to paper, I am ready to shed tears of joy!

January 18, 1922. (This article was originally published in "Morning News" on February 6, 1922, and later included in the collection of poems "Spring Water".)