評論
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Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His grief grieves on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
他若是做不到這樣，他的氣力終歸白費。他不是在寫愛而是在寫情欲，他寫的失敗是沒有人失去可貴東西的失敗，他寫的勝利是沒有希望的勝利，更糟的是，甚至是沒有憐憫或同情的勝利。他不是為遍地白骨而悲傷，所以留不下痕跡。他不是在寫心靈而是在寫器官。
Until he relearns these things, he will wirte as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound; that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the wirter's duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man; it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
在他重新懂得這些之前，他寫作時，就猶如站在處于世界末日的人類中去觀察末日的來臨。我不接受人類末日的說法。因人能傳宗接代而說人是不朽的，這很容易。說即使最后一次鐘聲已經消失，消失在再也沒有潮水沖刷的映在落日余暉里的海上的最后一塊無用礁石旁時，還會有一個聲音，人類微弱的，持續不斷的話語聲，這也很容易。但是我不能接受這種說法。我相信人類不僅能傳宗接代，而且能戰勝一切而永存。人之不朽不是因為在動物中唯獨他永遠能發言，而是因為他有靈魂，有同情、犧牲和忍耐的能力。詩人和作家的責任就是把這些寫出來。詩文和作家的特權就是去鼓舞人的斗志，使人記住過去曾經有過的榮光——人類曾有過的勇氣、榮譽、希望、自尊、同情、憐憫與犧牲精神。詩人的聲音不應只是人類的記錄，而應是使人類永存并得到勝利的支柱和頂梁。
