The Shape of My Psyche

《心象》

人类逃不出时间和空间所编结的轮回之花
但是心灵可以放飞
关于时间
关于空间
关于人类的心灵空间
并列在一起形成”音符系列”
然后进行对”存在”的追问
不仅仅是时间,还是空间,而是在可变的时间,空间环境中人的存在的心灵空间

对空间的渗透大大地有助于我的创作
我在寻找一种形态—寻找”自我”
空间还有神灵在环绕着我,我被包容在其中
我试图用我的绘画表达,但却不尽能够
需要音乐和诗歌注入它更多的灵魂旋律

我在自己的生活和艺术中寻找—寻找—
我在寻找驱使我进行的心灵旅行
我通过绘画、音乐、舞蹈、文字表达着
在这个变幻的空间里,用我的心灵去寻找着智慧
这是我力量的源泉,是我心灵的力量
我希望心灵的自由能走的更远— 更远—
延伸到空间—去呼吸—去寻找我创作的旋律

色彩是我的精神观念,它隶属于光
星星是我的眼睛,去为寻找圣洁的”光晕”
亨利·卢梭那古老的梦幻常常带我到上帝身边
我愿进入梦乡,去旅行—去旅行
游移于绘画、音乐、诗歌和舞蹈之间
我描绘着那不知疲倦的音乐的心
安静的望着乔托
在古老的壁画中收集着心灵的宁静
巴哈音乐圣洁的灵魂指引着我的心灵
我在喧哗的路途中找到了安静

画面的转换,打散的说话方式及被统帅的无意识带我进入状态去寻找方式
跳跃的喜悦向我心灵内移—内移—
石头睡了
记忆与憧憬交叉的路口,敏感的琴弦
被温暖地弹拨着—
灵感一片金黄

在每一个阳光灿烂的日子里
创作是一种愉悦
展示着它的面容,它的内在本质
和它神秘的灵魂
是我全部的激情和所有的理智去抓住那种艺术
它从自然中喷发出来
支撑我的心灵深处
我无法呼吸
我学会了控制这种创造力
我在下意识锻炼控制这种创造力
我用我心灵的眼睛看一切
使这种力量在我体内发生作用
并引导我

我靠的是热爱
对自己身心的放射
对能量的把握
与心灵共舞之后出现的”自由状态”
在感动,感性后在一定理性沉淀下出现的”自由状态”
透过一些符号,规则让我看到更多的明亮,更多的世界,更多的美丽
我在跳跃的音符上入睡,感觉,构思,推理,欢笑
天地间大气的精灵与我已同共舞飞翔
来自心灵的色彩经久不灭
去寻找天空中最优美的静静的云朵
那么细腻
我想画那些流动的、静止的、集合的、散落的、燃烧的以及沉思的云
但我怕都不能够准确

阳光是那么的眩目
它们是那么的纯粹
我真是不想走出这些”记忆的天空”
遥远的回忆弥漫着——
饱满的山坡
是那么的全然
没有太多的东西
却毫不迟疑地向我心灵内移,内移
历史悠久,但你和它之间没有距离,你可以随意触摸它

每天似乎变得清晰
没有惊人的景象和声音
空气里要多安静有多安静
失去记忆的音乐
在偷偷的张望
躺在粉笔盒里的粉笔
发出星星般的叹息

音乐在运动
言词在运动
在时间中运动
然后慢慢进入寂静
古老的镜子
凝固
移动
旋转
晕眩
照片可以轻而易举地模仿这个混淆的世界
绘画找到了那被照亮的线索
作为艺术家将生活中的这些东西采集起来
这样艺术家就完成了他的作品

平淡的句子问世的日子里
我们在寻找”情节”背后的蕴涵
在寻找和我自己的生命息息相关的某种”真谛”性质的启迪
心灵的守护神
在灰色的空气中摇摆
旧的祈祷在飘落
更多的明亮和美丽弥漫在迷雾的空气里

–古丽·斯坦

The Shape of My Psyche

Humans cannot escape from the flower of transmigration woven by time and void.
But the soul can take off
Something about time
Something about void
About the void inside the soul of a human
Stay along side by side to construct “a series of musical notes”
Thus initiate the intensive quest of “existence”

Having bathed in the void helps me greatly to paint
I am seeking a state and a shape—seeking the very “ego”
The void and the gods surround me; I am in the middle of them—
I try to express with my painting, but the expression is not complete
Music and poetry are needed to fill the work more and more with the melody of the human psyche

I seek in the life and art of mine—I am seeking
Looking for the drive that makes the trip of the soul come true
I express through painting, music, dance, and words
My soul always pursues wisdom in the ever-changing world
It is the source of my power, the power of my soul
I hope that the freedom of my heart will travel further—
Extended to the vast space—to breathe—to find out the melody of my creation

Color is my spiritual concept. It belongs to the light
Stars are my eyes; they are looking for the “holy halo”
Henry Rousseau’s old dream often brings me to the side of god
I am willing to fall in the dreaming land, to travel—to travel
I move between painting, music, poetry and dance
I depict the restless heart of music
Staring at Giotto quietly
Collecting the peace of soul in the ancient fresco
The holy spirit of Bach’s music guides my soul
I’ve found quietness in the way of chaos

The shift of pictures, the sheltered way of speech and dominated unconsciousness bring me into the searching of the method
The happiness of jumping moves towards the inner side of my soul
Stones fall asleep
The crossroad of memory and longing, sensitive chords
Were flirted kindly—
Inspiration turns golden

During the days when the sunshine was bright
Creation equals happiness
Its facial appearance was shown, and the inner being
And the mysterious soul
They are a kind of art I grasped with all my passion and all my sense
It broke forth from nature
And supports my deep soul
I could not take a breath
I learned to control this kind of creative power
I watched around with the eyes of the psyche
Let the power come to work inside me
And guide me

I depend on my love
The love radiates through my body and my heart
The love that holds energy
The “state of freedom” comes after the dance with the soul
The freedom that comes under the touch, under the sensitivity and certain precipitation of reason
Though some signs, the rules cause me to find more brightness, more warmth, and more beauty
I fall asleep; I fall, compile, reason, and laugh on the bouncing musical notes—
The sprite of the sky and the vast land are flying with me
The color that comes from the soul lasts and lasts
In order to seek the most beautiful calm cloud in the sky
So delicate
I am thinking to paint the floating, stilled, congregating, sheltered, burning and contemplating clouds
But I am afraid of being imprecise

The sunlight is so brilliant
It is so pure
I am not willing to walk away from this “sky of memory”
The distant memories permeate—
Full slope
So complete
With few other things
But they move toward my inner heart without hesitation
History is long, but there is no distance between you and history; it can be touched at any time

Every day becomes vivid
There’s no surprising scene or voice
Enough quietness in the air, you may ask for more
The music that lost memories
Is watching discreetly to the outside
The chalk that lies in the box
Is sighing like stars

Music is moving
Letters are moving
Moving in the middle of time
Then they come into silence
Ancient mirror
Frozen
Move
Whirl
Dazzle
Photos easily imitate the chaotic world
Painting finds the enlightened clue
As an artist he collects these things from life
Then his work is complete

The days when plain words are published
We are seeking the meaning behind the “story”
Seeking the enlightenment of “essence”, related to my life
The patron saint of soul
Swing in the grey air
Old prayers are falling—
More brightness and beauty saturate the air with fog

— Gulistan

4 Responses to “The Shape of My Psyche”

  1. 宋逖 Says:

    上海修改我的诗歌的头巾
    但我仍然有进入你的水晶形状的雨和太阳
    摇晃着这些我看不清的英文
    我在陌生的屋舍里读
    并期待你依旧拥有判决我的奇迹

    在上海,你的名字终于变为蝴蝶
    你的更多的光之澄静
    逼迫我为云朵缝上意大利语的灯光
    在上海我没有穿越每一次歌曲
    每一次歌曲都把你的心
    和我说不出的花朵接上电话
    每一个学校都用他们的童年拨号
    我们有雾,也有灰蓝色的祈祷之心。

  2. puff Says:

    我总游弋于绘画、音乐、诗歌和舞蹈中
    我总描绘这琢磨不定的音乐心灵
    静静凝望着乔托
    收集远古壁画灵魂的平和
    巴赫音乐中圣洁精神引领我的灵魂
    我已在纷乱的路途上找寻到了宁静

    —–古丽·斯坦,载自“灵魂的样子”

    ___________________________________________
    I have translated one part of this poem.At first I didn’t know that you have writen the chinese version. Maybe somewhere is wrong, wish you don’t mind it. Could I ask you whether you write the chinese poem at first and then translate it into english by yourself?

  3. rere Says:

    to my teacher gulistan

    每个人都是一座孤岛,孤岛的边缘—渡口。我站在那里独自等待。

    我始终觉得,相识相知的人们。会有一种无言的亲近感拉近彼此。

    就像一些伙伴,朋友,亲人,同学,老师。

    即使时间总在玩弄我们在手心里,也觉得温暖。

    我总觉得应该站出来说出很多事情。

    说出我认为是对的东西。

    但是真诚的交流成了阻碍,我们迫于很多事情不能让别人看见真实的自己。

    但是在人群中,你总能感受到同样的眼睛。

    那样孩童般清澈而透明。那是一种掩藏不住的绝对快乐。

    更是一种让人心安向往的精神世界。

    我丢了关于这个世界的钥匙。却又找到了同样在这个世界的人。

    干干净净的活在这个世界的人。

    所以觉得默契和感慨油然而生。就好像很多年前一样

    或许,对于我来说。

    很多年,是不可能的概念。

    我只是很抱歉。

    我没有能力站出来,去改变很多事情。

    甚至我有的,只能是一种卑微的妥协。

    我终于成了生活的弱者。

    但是仅此,我还是可以坚持。

    坚持自己可以坚持的部分。

    比如写一些文字。纪念和敬畏一些人。

    我很高兴在初教院认识这样一位老师

    一个用真诚去教授的老师

    一个坚持坚持自己教学观念的老师

    一个真的懂得设计内涵的老师

    一个开发我们与众不同的老师

    一个唤起我们心里丧失已久的信心和创造力的老师

    老师的职责正在于此

    她不应该是规范我们思维的人

    她应该是带着我们找到自己的人

    她应该是全心在艺术上的人

    因为艺术是真诚的

    艺术绝对不是一种工作

    而是一种执着的热爱

    课程结束了,心里是温暖的

    总该说点什么

    即使时间是痛苦的,也不要浪费自己的时间

    要把它当成快乐去做。

    一切祝好。

  4. 加布里埃萊 Says:

    Hi Gulistan,
    here is a two poem lotus-love for you.
    Thank you!

    One offered to the tenor saxophonist, who dove on the earth, “Orpheus, whom we have torn apart.”

    “Orpheus, whom we have torn apart again,
    this god is resting at a site that heals.
    Our hands are cutting sharp. We want to win
    the truth, but scattered and serene he feels

    his place. We come with consecrated gifts.
    He doesn’t care, and takes no other way
    into his world. Motionless he will not lift
    a finger as he stares unto a far ray

    of freedom. Out of the unseen pool, the source that we can hear,
    only the dead can drink

    when the god signals him. We are offered
    just noise. Out of the quieter instinct
    the lamb is begging for its bell.”

    The other one about the dancer, Euridyce, who danced with Orpheus on the earth and continued to dance with him in Hades:

    “Dancer, O you translation
    of all transience into steps. How sparkling clear!
    That culminating spin, that tree of motion,
    didn’t you wholly seize the turning year?

    Didn’t it bloom so your deft feet might swarm
    around it, burst and blossom into calm?
    Wasn’t the sun, summer—those immeasurably
    warm
    days—drawn from your warm
    inner balm?

    But it bore fruit, it bore your tree of ecstasy.
    Everything in season. Tranquil. The urn
    is streaked with ripeness too.

    Through the pictures, the drawing, can’t we see
    an obscure stroke shaping an eyebrow
    quickly scrawled on the wall? The dancer’s turn?”

    From Rainer Maria Rilke’s Sonnets to Orpheus (edited by Barnstone)

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