Proud Foolish Bird

A good example of the literary affect of Xu Zhimo 徐志摩 (1897-1931):

I have nothing more to say. I just want you to remember there is a kind of bird that heaven made to sing until it spits up blood. Its song contains the happiness of another world it alone knows, and a tragedy and pain it alone knows. A poet is such a foolish bird; he places his tender heart firmly upon a bed of thorny roses, and in his mouth he sings of the brilliance of the stars and moon and the hope of mankind, and he doesn't stop until the blood of his heart drips out and makes the white flowers completely red; his pain and happiness are all mixed up together.

我再没有别的话说，我只要你们记得有一种天教歌唱的鸟不到呕血不住口，它的歌里有它独自知道的别一个世界的愉快，也有它独自知道的悲哀与伤痛的鲜明；诗人也是一种痴鸟，他把他的柔软的心窝紧抵着蔷薇的花刺，口里不住的唱着星月的光辉与人类的希望非到他的心血滴出来把白花染成大红他不住口。他的痛苦与快乐是浑成的一片。

From the preface to Menghu ji 猛虎集 (Ferocious tiger, 1931), translated by Charles Laughlin in The Literature of Leisure