I picked up all the cold branches and refused to live on them, and the lonely sandbank was cold.
——Su Shi, are the tung flowers blooming again in Huizhou? I don’t know what kind of colorful scene it is. The broken heart is parked on this small sandbank, with the waning moon as its companion and the cold river as its friend. I am still the lonely person you accidentally glanced at, and my sad eyes are still looking forward to your return from the sea.
The waning moon hangs on the tung branches, and the cold light shines down, making shadows blurry. In the quiet night, the yard is still brightly lit with candles. I still remember you reading at night in the yard with a candle. The sound of reading brightly lit up the night, and even the birds returning at night stopped to listen.
I have long admired your talent. I climbed over the fence and secretly listened to you reciting poems. You chanted softly: "Everywhere in life is similar, it should be like a flying dragon stepping on snow and mud." I learned to chant: "Everywhere in life is similar, it should be like a flying dragon walking on snow and mud."
While chanting, it is as if a master is teaching his disciples. Seeing you studying hard makes me sad. Why are you so talented, yet you are relegated like this? Is it because you are jealous of your talent? In a daze, I knocked on the window, and you turned around, ready to search. And I, like the flying dragon, disappeared into the tung trees.
After eavesdropping several times, you have noticed and know my life experience. I vowed not to marry, just so I could listen to you reciting poems every night. The world is unpredictable, and you were demoted to Qiongzhou again. Qiongzhou, a name that sounds far away when you hear it, separated by millions of mountains and rivers and millions of people. I know that we will never see each other again.
The people are gone, but the building is still there; the leaves are fallen, but the trees are still there. I will still climb over the familiar fence and hide quietly outside the window. Your upright back in blue clothes appears in my memory. Flowers accompany butterflies, lone wild geese fly together, and in the dead of night, I am left alone to wander. The heart of memory is entangled with the past, fragmented, like the white tung trees, full of haggardness.
I became a sad lone tiger, leaving my messy and directionless footprints in the ice and snow. Perhaps, in your heart, I am the lonely bird that flew by by chance, just a small accident. It's always sad when you think about it.
Many years later, as an old man, you staggered onto this sandbank. Thank you for remembering me. Thank you for writing "Divination" for me and letting this little episode in your life be passed down to the world. However, these are not important, what is important is this feather-like emotion.
After picking up all the cold branches, I still couldn’t find a place to perch. I circled around and finally settled on this small sandbank.
One side of the sandbank is connected to the sea, which is the place where people I miss day and night return; the other side of the sandbank is connected to the small village, where there is a cold moon, a quiet courtyard, and the sound of reading.
Lonely and cold on the sandbank.