讀者DC君來信説我的詩歌讀起來像普希金，以下是我給DC君的回信：
淩晨起來寫了這篇《
自由定義》
往往我們理解世界的方式也正是我們誤解世界的原因，當你量子塌縮於不是這個就是那個時，世界被以為變得如此堅實確定。都說萬法唯心，但心又何來？
然而宇宙的神秘隱入大海的黑暗之心，我們猶在岸邊讚美瞬間即逝的浪花。
從17歲嘗試寫下第一首詩，轉眼47年已過，你昨晚的來信，為我打開另外一扇自我觀照的窗。平常少有人讀我的詩，我也習慣了獨自前行。現在過著宅在山裡的化外生活，少與社會往來，偶爾收到有緣讀者來信，算是人間樂透一樁。
——
宅山化外有風雨，
偶然詩歌無人間。
（*作於2025.8.13楊柳颱風來襲）
Beyond the World, Dwelling in the Mountain
Dwelling in the mountain, beyond the world,
there is wind and rain.
By chance, poetry happens
with no human world.
(*Written on August 13, 2025, during Typhoon Yangliu)
—— Reader DC wrote to say my poetry reads like Pushkin. Below is my reply to DC:
I rose at dawn to write this piece, "Definition of Freedom."（
自由定義）
Often, the way we understand the world
is precisely the way we misread it.
When you quantum-collapse into
either this or that,
the world is taken to become
so solid, so certain.
We say that all phenomena arise from the mind,
yet where does the mind itself come from?
Meanwhile, the mystery of the universe
withdraws into the dark heart of the ocean,
and we remain on the shore,
praising the waves
that vanish in an instant.
I wrote my first poem at seventeen.
In a blink, forty-seven years have passed.
Your letter last night
opened another window
of self-reflection for me.
Few people usually read my poems,
and I have long grown accustomed
to walking alone.
Now I live a life beyond the world,
dwelling in the mountains,
with little contact with society.
From time to time,
a letter arrives from a kindred reader.
Such moments feel like
a small lottery won in the human world.
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