catalogue
? Small orange lamp
Reflections on the 2nd 1 hearing (1)
Sakura song
pink clouds
A lake as simple as truth.
Small orange lamp
This was more than ten years ago.
One afternoon before the Spring Festival, I went to see a friend in the suburbs of Chongqing.
She lives above the town hall in that village. Walking up the dark stairs, I walked into a room with a square table and several bamboo stools, and a telephone on the wall. Then I went into my friend's room, separated from the outside by a curtain. She is not at home. There is a note on the table by the window saying that she will go out temporarily and asked me to wait for her.
I sat down at her desk and picked up a newspaper to read. Suddenly, I heard the door of the outhouse creak open. After a while, I heard someone moving a bamboo stool. I opened the curtain and saw a little girl, only about eight or nine years old, with a thin and pale face, purple lips and short hair, wearing shabby clothes and sandals and barefoot, boarding a bamboo stool to meet the listener on the wall. When she saw me, she seemed startled and shrank back. I asked her, "Are you going to call?" As she climbed down the bamboo stool, she nodded and said, "I'm going to the hospital to find Dr. Hu." My mother just vomited a lot of blood! " "I asked," Do you know the telephone number of _ _ hospital? " She shook her head and said, "I was just about to ask the telephone office ..." I quickly found the hospital number from the phone book next to the machine and asked her, "Who should I invite to see a doctor?" She said, "Just say that Wang Chunlin's family is ill and she will come. "
The phone got through, she thanked me gratefully and then left. I grabbed her and asked, "Is your home far?" She pointed out the window and said, "It's just under the big yellow fruit tree in the mountain nest, and it's within walking distance." With that, he went downstairs.
I went back to the back room, read the newspaper back and forth, and picked up a copy of Three Hundred Tang Poems. Halfway through it, it was getting darker and darker, but my friend still didn't come back. Bored, I stood up, looked at the misty mountain scenery outside the window, saw the hut under the Huangguoshu, and suddenly wanted to see the little girl and her sick mother. I went downstairs and bought some red oranges at the door, stuffed them in my handbag and walked along the uneven stone road to the door of the hut.
I tapped on the door of the board. Just now, the little girl came out to open the door. She looked up at me, paused for a moment, and then smiled and beckoned me in. The room was small and dark, covered with boards against the wall. Her mother lay flat with her eyes closed. She is probably asleep, her head is covered with blood, and her face is turned inward, only to see the messy hair on her face and a big bun at the back of her head.
There is a small charcoal stove by the door, with a small casserole on it, steaming slightly. The little girl asked me to sit on the stool in front of the stove. She squatted next to me and looked at me all the time. I asked softly, "Has the doctor been here?" She said, "yes, I gave my mother an injection ... she is fine now." She seemed to comfort me and said, "Don't worry, the doctor will come again tomorrow morning." I asked, "Did she eat? What's in this pot? " She smiled and said, "sweet potato porridge-our New Year's Eve." I remembered the oranges I brought, so I took them out and put them on the low table beside the bed. Without saying anything, she reached for the biggest orange, peeled off a section of skin with a small knife and gently rubbed the lower part with her hands.
I asked in a low voice, "Who else is in your family?" She said, "No one is here now, my father has gone outside ..." She didn't go on, but slowly took out an orange from the orange peel and put it next to her mother's pillow.
The light of the fire gradually dimmed and the outside turned black. I stood up to leave and she took my hand. She quickly took the big needle of twine and surrounded the small orange bowl relatively, like a small basket, carrying it with a small bamboo stick. She also took a short wax head from the windowsill, lit it in it and handed it to me, saying, "It's dark, the road is slippery, and this little orange light shines on you up the hill!" "
I took it appreciatively and thanked her. She walked me out. I don't know what to say. She seemed to comfort me and said, "Dad will be back soon. My mother will be fine by then. " She drew a circle in front of her with her little hand and finally pressed it on my hand: "We are all fine!" " "Obviously, this" everyone "also includes me.
I am carrying this clever little orange lamp and walking slowly on the dark and humid mountain road. This hazy orange light really can't shine far, but the little girl's calm, brave and optimistic spirit inspired me, and I seemed to feel that there was infinite light in front of me!
My friend has come back and saw me carrying a small orange lamp and asked me where I came from. I said, "From ... from Wang Chunlin's house." She said in surprise, "Wang Chunlin the carpenter, how do you know him?" Last year, in the medical college at the foot of the mountain, several students were taken away by the producer of * * *, and later Wang Chunlin also disappeared. It is said that he often delivers letters for those students ... "
That night, I left the mountain village, and I never heard from the little girl and her mother again. But from then on, every Spring Festival, I will think of that little orange lamp. 12 years have passed, and the little girl's father must have come back early. Her mother must be fine, too, right? Because we are all "good".
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Reflections on the 2nd 1 hearing (1)
On the morning of 2 1, I went to the trial hall as a representative to hear the verdict of the Peking University student case. There are eleven of us and four girls' school representatives. At that time, it was already past nine o'clock, and there were already many gay students at the entrance of the trial hall. Might as well come back one after another. We asked the doorman for a side hearing. They said that I was afraid that the women's gallery was too narrow, but there was a bench. Please let us take four representatives in. None of us wants to be an outcast, so we sincerely say to them, "If the place is too narrow, we will stand." They couldn't do it. They went in for a long time and came out and said to us, "There are only eleven of you. There is really no place for the representative to come again. " We like to go in happily. Pity those later delegates, it's unfortunate to watch the door fail to get in. After the trial, although I also took notes, they were recorded in all the newspapers in great detail, so I don't need to repeat them.
(1)1919 On May 4th, 2009, a patriotic movement broke out in Beijing. Xie Wanying, a first-year student of Peking Union Medical College Women's University, took part in the patriotic movement of students. She was selected as a student union document, joined the publicity unit of the Women's Federation, and served as a text propaganda work. With the further development of the May 4th Movement, the warlord government was forced to accept students' patriotic demands, but it still did not give up its attempt to suppress students. In July, patriotic students were arrested under the pretext. In August, the authorities arrested innocent students and demanded their immediate release. Xie Wanying, as a member of the Propaganda Unit of the Academic Circle of the Women's Federation, attended the audit and wrote this article according to the requirements of propaganda.
After the hearing, there were various bans, one of which was "No smoking and spitting", but the police standing around the hall kept spitting on the ground. I just remembered that this ban is limited to the audience.
When lawyer Liu defended me, I was moved to that painful and wonderful place. One defendant was in tears and the whole hall was in tears. At the same time, I noticed that the four plaintiffs looked "uneasy" when they left the court and they forced a smile. I can't help but think of an old saying, "sadness in my heart is greater than death." Alas! Poor young man! Young people whose conscience is dominated by selfish desires!
In the middle of the trial, the presiding judge reported a 15-minute break. At this time, many spectators gathered around the defendant and waved their condolences. No one sided with the plaintiff. I don't think the defendant's own honor needs pity. We should sympathize with those "die-hard youths". From the beginning of the trial to the end of the trial, at eight o'clock, there was a scene of excitement and pain in the middle of the ear. I retired at six o'clock, and it was very pleasant to walk out of the door and be in the fresh and refreshing air. At the same time, I feel tired and hungry, and my heart is still full of depression.
After dinner, I sat on the porch at home. I have no intention to appreciate the singing of autumn insects on the wall and the fragrance of jasmine tuberose. Only the impression of eight o'clock is spinning in my mind.
Suddenly, Zhang Ma, sitting on the other side of the porch, asked me, "Where did the girl go all day today?" This sentence woke me up from that impression, and I answered her, "I listened to it in court today." Then I will tell her something about today. After listening, she said, "There are students on both sides, so why bother?" He added, "It is common for students to quarrel. Why not leave it to Mr. Wang to judge, but disturb the court! "
I wondered at that time why this ordinary rural woman could have such an understanding. I suddenly realized that it was not her profound understanding but justice, so Zhang Ma's words were exactly the same as Liu's.
I look forward to another day's trial, as they say. Because this is "justice" and this is "public opinion".
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Sakura song
Cherry blossoms are the pride of Japan. People who go to Japan must first think of cherry blossoms before arriving; Here we are, first of all, cherry blossoms. If you arrive between summer and autumn, Japanese friends will say sadly, "You missed the cherry blossom season!" " "
If you arrive in winter, they will keep you and say, "Stay a little longer until you see cherry blossoms!" " In short, cherry blossoms, like the "Xue Ruiling Peak" on Mount Fuji, have become a symbol of Japan.
To say the least, I have seen cherry blossoms dozens of times. Look at the Castle Peak Cemetery, Ueno Park and Thousand Birds Garden in Tokyo ...; Look at Kyoto, look at Nara ... See it in the rain, see it in the fog, see it under the moon ... Japan is full of cherry blossoms, some are hundred-flower trees, and some are quietly standing by the roadside water.
Spring in Japan is immersed in the breath of cherry blossoms!
My Japanese friend told me that there are more than 300 kinds of cherry blossoms, the most of which are mountain cherry, Yoshino cherry and eight-fold cherry. Sakura and Yoshino Sakura are not as white as peach blossoms or pear blossoms. They are lotus gray. 20% off cherry blossoms are plump and ruddy, almost like begonia in Beijing in spring. In addition, there are pale yellow Yujin cherry blossoms, drooping branches of cherry blossoms, the earliest cherry blossoms on the other side of the spring equinox, and more than 300 petals of chrysanthemum cherry blossoms ... They cover each other and compete with each other. The cherry blossom songs written by Huang Zunxian, a poet in Qing Dynasty, are as follows:
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This song describes the overwhelming victory of the Japanese in watching cherry blossoms in spring. "10 Day Tour" is very short. After the cloudy day, spring is warm and cherry blossoms are blooming all over the mountain. After a storm, they quickly withered, and the mountains were covered with fallen English! Therefore, Japanese scholars have written many "short-lived" sad poems. It is said that cherry blossoms are also characterized by "early blooming and early setting". Perhaps because I come from China, my association with cherry blossoms is not so gloomy. Although I first saw cherry blossoms in the spring of 1947, in the Castle Peak Cemetery in Tokyo, the cemetery was full of gloomy grave sweepers and drunken guests who drank too much wine. When I passed through the tunnel covered with lotus-gray flowers like a dome, I felt a deep touch.
I went to Japan this spring when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I saw cherry blossoms everywhere, in Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto, Hakone-CHO and Kamakura ... but the cherry blossoms I saw in Kanazawa Xiangshan on April 13 were the most vivid and magnificent I have ever seen!
On April 12, it was raining heavily, and we went to Neitan fishing village not far from Kanazawa City. I overheard on the road that tomorrow is the day when the workers of Kanazawa taxi company go on strike. Kanazawa has 12 taxi companies, 250 cars and hundreds of drivers and workers. They asked for higher wages to relieve the pressure of life. They have gone on strike five times and failed to achieve their goal. Tomorrow's strike will be the sixth time.
That afternoon, on the beach with heavy rain, in the farmers' homes in Neitan, we heard many touching stories of workers and peasants fighting for the shooting range and opposing the American occupation of farmland, and finally winning. In the evening, I attended a warm welcome meeting for the masses. Everyone is too excited to sleep well. I got up early the next day and set off in a hurry. I almost forgot that the bus drivers went on strike today.
At 8: 40 in the morning, we came out of the hotel and eleven cars were neatly placed at the door. We got on the bus separately and walked slowly along the mountain road, winding down. The weather is mysterious, the warm east wind blows, and the bright sunshine shakes our eyes. ...
Then it suddenly occurred to me that today is not the day when car drivers go on strike.
Didn't they strike at eight o'clock in the morning? Didn't they postpone the strike in order to get us on the bus? I quickly asked my Japanese friend who was sitting in front of me with the driver. The Japanese friend turned around and said with a slight smile, "In order to send the China writers' delegation to the residence, they held an emergency meeting last night and decided to change the strike time to nine o'clock in the morning!" When I excitedly said a word or two of thanks, the man looked at me quietly, stared at the driver in front, tilted his head slightly and said humbly, "Promoting the friendship between the Japanese and Chinese people is also part of the struggle!"
My heart jumped suddenly, like a lit fireworks, and the spark of gratitude came out of my heart, generate …
On the mountain road in the early morning, there were no other vehicles, only eleven of us, rustling and speeding by. At this moment, I suddenly saw hundreds of cherry blossoms on both sides of the mountain road after the rain! This cherry blossom, piled up in piles, is like a sea of clouds, blushing and colorful in the early morning sunshine. When the winding mountain road is covered by this boundless cloud of flowers, we are like sitting in eleven canoes end to end, riding the swaying east wind, splashing flowers on both sides, and making rapid progress towards the rising sun!
Down the mountain, to the city center, there are still no other vehicles in the street, only a lot of cars in the street, the door is open, there are large and small cars lined up at the door, and the red flag is inserted in the door. The auto workers stood neatly by the door, smiling at our car passing by.
When we arrived at the station, we got off the bus and held the drivers' hands tightly with boiling enthusiasm, thanking them for their help and wishing them success in their struggle.
The warm farewell scene has passed, the train has been driving for a long time, snow-capped mountains and running spring water pass by the window, but my eyes are still shining with this wonderful cherry blossom that I have never seen before!
I turned around and asked my Japanese friend, "Cherry blossoms are beautiful, but from the Japanese point of view, where is the beauty of cherry blossoms?" He scratched his head and said with a smile, "there is no beautiful flower in the world ... as for the love for a flower, it is because of the feelings in everyone's heart." Japanese literati feel the shortness of life from the beautiful and easy-to-fall cherry blossoms, and samurai associate it with heroic sacrifice. As for ordinary people, they like cherry blossoms, because it first brings people the news of exciting and happy spring after the severe winter. In Japan, there are many cherry blossoms! Mountains, watersides, streets, courtyards, everywhere. The snow hasn't melted, the winter clothes haven't gone, and the dark room is still chilly in spring. As long as a little east wind blows from a distance and the sun shines in the sky, cherry blossoms will bloom all over the mountain!
Whether it's Sakura in the mountains, Sakura Yoshino or Sakura Yaeko ... it reports the exciting news of spring to people on the three islands next to it. "
These words made me understand two things. One is: cherry blossoms bloom all over Penglai Island, which are the flowers of the Japanese people themselves and will always give the Japanese people excitement and encouragement in spring; One is that the psychological activities of flower watchers form a special love for some flowers. The cherry blossoms in Kanazawa are no better than those in other places. An affectionate and moving remark from the car driver expressed the deep friendship of the Japanese working people to the Japanese people, which turned the cherry blossoms everywhere in my eyes into a sea of clouds and flowers of friendship between the Chinese and Japanese people, and made the canoe of friendship March forward like an arrow towards the brilliant sunrise!
The memories in the middle of the night are warm and full of enthusiasm. I am happy to write an ode to cherry blossoms.
196 1 may 18 in the evening.
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pink clouds
Bing Xin (1900- 1999) was originally named Xie Wanying. Minhou county, Fujian province. China poet, modern writer, translator, children's literature writer, social activist and essayist. The pen name Bing Xin is taken from There is a Bing Xin in the Jade Pot. 192 1 year; Her works include dozens of novels, poems, essays, children's literature and translated works, most of which have been compiled into Selected Works of Bing Xin and Selected Works of Bing Xin's Translation.
In the early forties, when I lived in Geleshan, a suburb of Chongqing, I was shocked to see a sentence in English Reader's Digest. Yes:
May there be enough clouds in your life to make a beautiful evening.
I once translated in a short article: "May there be enough clouds in your life to make a beautiful evening."
In fact, this sunset should be translated as "sunset" or "sunset".
Xia, it is my old friend! When I was a child, I was at the seaside and on the mountain. She is my most familiar and beautiful child. She says "good morning" or "see you tomorrow" to me in the light every morning and evening. But it was not until decades later that I realized that the more clouds, the more beautiful the glow. The glow from the clouds is bright and colorful.
There is not only happiness but also pain in life. Happiness and pain complement each other and set off each other.
Happiness is a touch of Wei Yun, and pain is a dark cloud hanging over the city. These different clouds overlap on the horizon of your life. When you see the sun, although it is glorious, it will create a beautiful dusk for you.
When a life reaches the season of "being buried by the coming night", the sunset may attract people's attention and make them feel melancholy. But human life is endless. The earth goes around the sun all the time.
The east is not bright and the west is bright. The sunset glow in front of my window is heading for the ice lake on the east coast of the United States. ...
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A lake as simple as truth.
Because I like water, I like to see all the rivers, lakes and oceans. In my life, I have seen many beautiful and unforgettable lakes at home and abroad: some are covered by mountains, and the lights on the balcony by the lake are as bright as fairyland; Some distant islands are green, and the waves beat against the shore, as magnificent as the sea; Some are snow-capped mountains, and the lake under Leng Yun is as deep as amethyst; Some are jungles, flowers, and lakes are bluer than the sky and greener than jasper ... These lakes can be described by strokes, poems or prose poems.
Only last year 1 1 month 1 1 evening, I was more than 30 miles northwest of Leningrad, the Soviet Union, and I saw Lake Laszlev, which was indescribable! The lake is neither deep nor large. It was a pair of sisters who were flooded-Laszlev, which means flooding in Russian-and the day I went was cloudy and foggy in winter. There is no sunset, moonlight and starlight. The lake is so calm that there is no sound at all. Surrounded by tall reeds, there is no margin in the deep fog. But the impression it gave me-I said the impression was wrong, because I couldn't say I was enjoying it, but it itself, the most beautiful, greatest and simplest lake in the world, was "as simple as truth" and surrounded me.
I have never forgotten it since I saw it. It is not a lake for people to enjoy and play, but a lake visited and admired by millions of people in Qian Qian all over the world, because it kissed Lenin, the greatest, simplest and "as simple as truth", shortly after the cannon shot on Aphrodite's ship in August 19 17! In the Woods by the lake, it used to be the "green office" of this great man. The "ceiling" of this office is blue sky and the "floor" is soft sand and thick leaves. There are two desks and chairs in the office, one is high and the other is short. In this greatest and simplest office, Lenin wrote a book of genius: the country and revolution and other classic documents. Not far from this table, two branches support a crossbar with an iron pot hanging on it. I will never forget this wok, because it is the same as the wok commonly used in Beijing. It is the black, most common and simplest kettle that can be seen on every household's stove. Just under this iron pot, Lenin set up dead branches, lit a fire, and then went back to his desk, thoughtfully, waiting for the boiling sound of a pot of water. Behind the forest, there is a sharp hut made of thick grass, and only one person is allowed to lie down. This is where Ivanov (Lenin's pseudonym), the mower, lives at night. He writes in Japan and China and walks by the lake in the morning and evening. He not only gathered with his closest comrades in this quietest, most ordinary and simplest lake, but also planned how to set off this earth-shattering October red dust storm, and enjoyed the sunset glow and the new moon alone by this lonely reed-covered lake.
What a happy lake it is, what a simple lake it is, commensurate with the great Lenin!
During my visit to the Soviet Union for more than two months, everywhere I saw, everyone I met and everything I read, there was a giant standing behind me. His broad and prominent forehead, broad shoulders, wise eyes and kind mouth ... like ordinary people, he is also their favorite. He is neither pretentious nor reserved, and has no hobbies. He has no time to think about himself. Where he lives, whether in the Smolny Academy in the Kremlin or the General Villa in Gok ... his bedroom, dining room and office are so small and simple. He can write on the dresser in the most ordinary bedroom, and he can sit on a small cane chair for a long time. Opposite his desk, he prepared a very comfortable sofa chair for visiting guests ... All this made us deeply realize that the person who can serve the people best is always the one who can forget himself the most. This is how the great Lenin thought of the working people who have been absolutely oppressed and exploited in Russia and Qian Qian completely, unnaturally and meticulously. He used the most meticulous thinking day and night to plan the happiest future for them. I often think that in his broad and protruding forehead, I don't know or think of himself?
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Articles about the appreciation of Bing Xin's beautiful prose;
★ 5 beautiful articles about Guan Bingxin
★ Appreciation of Bingxin's Beautiful Prose
★ Bing Xin's classic prose
★ Three selections of Bingxin's beautiful essays
★ Bing Xin's best article
★ Beautiful prose about Bing Xin
★ Appreciation of Bing Xin's lyric prose
★ Prose about Bing Xin
★ Appreciation of Bing Xin's Narrative Lyric Prose
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