Taoist Tower
There is a river outside the gate of Mogao Grottoes. There is an open space across the river, and several monks' death towers are built high and low.
The tower is round, shaped like a gourd, and covered in white. Judging from the collapse of several towers, there is a wooden pile erected in the center of the tower, surrounded by yellow mud
and the base is built with blue bricks. Historically, the monks who abbot Mogao Grottoes were not wealthy, and you can find proof here. At dusk
The sun was setting in the west and the wind was biting, making this group of dilapidated towers even more desolate.
There is a tower that is relatively well preserved because it was built relatively recently. There is an inscription on the body of the tower. As I moved to read it, I was suddenly surprised. Its owner turned out to be Wang Yuanlu!
History has recorded that he was the sinner of the Dunhuang Grottoes.
I have seen photos of him. He was wearing a homespun cotton coat, his eyes were dull, and he was timid. He was a Chinese commoner that could be met everywhere
in that era. He was originally a farmer from Macheng, Hubei Province. He fled to Gansu and became a Taoist priest. After several twists and turns,
Unfortunately, he became the home of Mogao Grottoes, controlling the most splendid culture in ancient China. He received a very small amount of money from foreign adventurers and asked them to transport countless Dunhuang cultural relics away in boxes. Today, the experts at the Dunhuang Academy have no choice but to buy microfilms of Dunhuang documents from foreign museums again and again, sighing, and walk to the computer.
You can completely vent your anger to him. However, he is too humble, too insignificant, and too ignorant. His biggest confession is just playing the piano to a cow, in exchange for an indifferent expression. Let his ignorant body shoulder this heavy debt of literature
even we will feel bored.
This is a huge national tragedy. Taoist Wang is just the clown who stepped forward in this tragedy. A young
poet wrote that that evening, when the adventurer Stein's team of ox carts filled with boxes was about to set off, he looked back
at the miserable scenery of the west. Sunset. There, the wounds of an ancient nation are bleeding.
I really don’t know how a Taoist priest can take care of such a dignified Buddhist holy place. Where are all the Chinese civil servants?
Why do they never mention Dunhuang in their eloquent memorials?
It was already the beginning of the 20th century, and European and American artists were preparing for breakthroughs in the new century. Rodin was sculpting in his studio, Renoir, Degas, and Cezanne were in the late stages of creation. Manet had already exhibited his "Luncheon on the Grass" 》. Some of them have cast envious glances at Eastern art, and Dunhuang art is in the hands of Taoist Wang.
Taoist Wang gets up very early every day and likes to walk around the cave, just like an old farmer, looking at his house. He
was a little dissatisfied with the murals in the cave. They were dark and a bit dazzling. It would be nice to have a brighter place. He found two helpers and brought a bucket of lime. He put a long handle on the straw brush, dipped it in the lime bucket, and started painting. The first coat of lime was too thin, and the colors were still faintly visible. The farmer was very serious about his work, so he applied the second coat carefully.
The air here is dry, and the lime has dried in a while. There is nothing left, the smiles of the Tang Dynasty, the clothes of the Song Dynasty, and the cave became pure white. The Taoist priest wiped his sweat and smiled honestly, and asked about the market price of stone ash. He calculated over and over again and felt that there was no need to whitewash more caves for the time being, so he would just paint these few caves. He put down the brush handle optimistically.
When the cave walls are all whitewashed, the sculpture in the middle becomes too eye-catching. In a clean farmhouse, their graceful postures were too ostentatious, and their soft smiles were a bit embarrassing. The Taoist priest remembered his identity. As a Taoist priest, why not get some heavenly masters and spiritual palace bodhisattvas here? He asked his assistant to borrow some hammers to bend the original sculptures. It was a good job, but within a few strokes, her graceful figure was reduced to pieces, and her soft smile turned into mud. I heard that there were some masons from the neighboring village, so I invited them over, mixed some clay, and started to mold his heavenly master and spiritual palace.
The clay worker said that he had never done such work before. The Taoist priest comforted him and said, "It doesn't matter, as long as you have the intention." So, like a naughty boy building a snowman, here is the nose, here are the hands and feet, and finally he can sit still. Okay, let's take lime and paint them white
. Draw some eyes and a beard, look presentable. The Taoist priest breathed out a sigh of relief, thanked several masons, and then made the next step of planning.
When I walked into these caves today, I was faced with pale walls and pale monsters, and my mind was also pale.
I could hardly speak, and the brush handles and hammers were shaking in front of my eyes. "Stop!" I shouted painfully from the bottom of my heart.
I saw Taoist Wang turning his face, his eyes full of confusion. Yes, he is tidying up his house. Why should idlers make noise?
I even wanted to kneel down to him and beg him in a low voice: "Please wait a minute, wait a minute..." But what to wait for? My mind is still pale.
In the early morning of May 26, 1900, Taoist Wang still got up early and worked hard to clear away the accumulated sand in a cave.
Unexpectedly, the wall shook and cracked, and there seemed to be a hidden cave inside. Taoist Wang was a little strange.
He hurriedly opened the cave, oh, it was full of ancient relics!
Taoist Wang could not understand at all that this morning, he opened a portal that shocked the world. A permanent knowledge will be established based on this cave. Countless talented scholars will spend their entire lives in this cave. China's glory and shame will be swallowed up by this cave.
Now, he was picking up the tobacco pipe in the cave. Of course he couldn't understand these things, he just felt that something was a little strange. Why did the wall crack while I was here? Maybe it’s God’s reward for me. I took the opportunity to go to the county town for the first time, picked up a few scriptures and showed them to the county magistrate, and also told me about this strange incident.
The county magistrate is a civil servant, and he has a little sense of the weight of the matter. Soon Ye Chichang of Gansu Xuetai also knew about it. He was an epigrapher and understood the value of the caves. He suggested that the feudal lord transport these cultural relics to the provincial capital for safekeeping. But there were a lot of things, and the shipping costs were not low, so the bureaucrats hesitated again. Only Taoist Wang took out a few cultural relics from time to time and sent them back and forth in the officialdom.
China is poor. But as long as you look at the luxurious living arrangements of these bureaucrats, you will know that they will never be so poor that they cannot afford the freight. Not all Chinese officials are uneducated. They are already flipping through unearthed scriptures in their brightly lit study rooms, speculating on writing dynasties. But they don't have such red hearts and are determined to protect the heritage of the motherland.
They touched their beards gracefully and ordered their subordinates: "When will you ask the Taoist priest to send you a few more items?"
Wrap the few items you have already obtained and treat them as gifts. A birthday gift for a Beijing official.
At this moment, European and American scholars, sinologists, archaeologists, and adventurers traveled thousands of miles, eating and sleeping in the open air,
rushing towards Dunhuang. They were willing to sell all their property to pay for their return trip by smuggling one or two cultural relics.
They were willing to endure hardship, willing to risk being buried in the desert, and even prepared to be beaten and killed, and rushed towards this
newly opened cave. They lit up the smoke in the desert, and the fragrance of tea was also lingering in the living rooms of Chinese officials.
Without any checkpoints or procedures, the foreigners walked directly to the cave. The cave was lined with bricks and locked, and the key was hung on Taoist Wang's belt. Foreigners are a little regretful that at the last stop of their long journey, they did not encounter a strictly protected cultural relics mansion, an indifferent museum director, or even an indifferent person. The guard and the doorman, everything, turned out to be this dirty Taoist priest. They just shrugged humorously
.
After a few brief conversations, you will know the taste of the Taoist priest. All the plans originally conceived were completely redundant. All the Taoist priest wanted was the simplest small business. Just like exchanging two needles for a chicken, or a button for a basket of vegetables. If I want to retell this exchange account in detail, maybe my pen will be unsteady. I can only briefly say: In October 1905,
Russian Booruchev He exchanged a few Russian goods with him for a large number of scriptures and scriptures; in May 1907, the Hungarian Stein exchanged a stack of silver coins for 24 large boxes of scriptures and 5 boxes of textiles. Silk and paintings; July 1908,
The French were afraid of Xihe and exchanged a small amount of silver coins for 10 carts and more than 6,000 volumes of manuscripts and paintings; October 1911, Japan
< p>I, Koichiro Yoshikawa and Mizucho Tachibana exchanged more than 300 volumes of manuscripts and two Tang sculptures at an unimaginably low price; in 1914, Stan came again for the second time, still using a few silver coins In exchange for 5 large boxes and more than 600 scriptures;...The Taoist priest also hesitated, fearing that he would offend God. It was very simple to get rid of this hesitation. The country of Stan coaxed him to say that he admired Tang Seng very much. This time, he retraced Tang Seng's footsteps and came to China from India to learn Buddhist scriptures.
Okay, since it’s a foreign monk, let’s take it. Taoist Wang readily opened the door. No diplomatic rhetoric is needed here, just a few made-up fairy tales.
One box, another box. One truck, another truck. It's all installed and tied tightly. Call——, the convoy has set off.
I didn’t go to the provincial capital because the master had already said that there would be no shipping fee. Okay, then ship it to London, ship it to Paris, ship it to Petersburg, ship it to Tokyo.
Taoist Wang nodded frequently, bowed deeply, and gave him a ride. He respectfully called Stein "the great lord who promised peace" and Pelliot as "the great lord who wanted peace". He had some heavy silver dollars in his pocket, which were hard to get during ordinary alms. He said goodbye reluctantly and thanked Mr. Si and Mr. Bei for their "generosity".
The motorcade had already driven far away, but he was still standing at the intersection. There are two deep ruts in the desert.
Stein and the others received a warm welcome when they returned abroad. Their academic reports and expedition reports always aroused thunderous applause. Their narratives often mentioned the eccentric Taoist Wang, making foreign audiences feel how important it was to rescue this inheritance from such a fool. They kept hinting that it was their long journey that brought Dunhuang documents from darkness to light.
They are all scholars with a practical spirit, and I can admire them academically. However, some very basic premises were forgotten in their discussion. It was too late to argue. I could only think of a few lines of poetry written by a contemporary Chinese youth, which he wrote to Lord Elgin who burned down the Old Summer Palace:
I hate it so much
I hate that I was not born a century earlier
so that I could stand looking at you in the gloomy and dark castle
< p>The wilderness with the faint morning lightEither I pick up the white glove you threw down
Or you catch the sword I threw away
Or you and I Each rides a war horse
Leave far away from the handsome flag of the sky
Leave the cloud-like battle formation
Determine victory and defeat under the city
< p>For this group of scholars, these verses may be too hard. But I really want to use this method to stop their convoy.Looking at each other, standing in the desert. They will say that you are unable to study; so well, first find a place, sit down, and compare your knowledge. Everything can be done, but we can’t take away the legacy given to us by our ancestors so quietly.
I couldn't help but sigh again. What if the convoy is really stopped by me? I had to send it to the capital where the payment was due, leaving aside the freight. But wasn't it true that a batch of cave documents were sent to Beijing at that time? The scene was that there were no wooden boxes, but mats tied randomly. Officials reached in and took away a handful along the way, leaving a few bundles behind wherever they stopped. As a result, , by the time they arrived in the capital, they were all scattered and in disarray.
In such a huge country, there are not even a few volumes of scriptures left in China! Compared to being abused by officials, sometimes I even want to say cruelly: I would rather store it in the London Museum! After all, this sentence is not comfortable to say. Where should the convoy I stopped go?
Where should it go? It's difficult here, and it's difficult there. I can only let it stop in the desert, and then
cry loudly.
I hate it so much!
I’m not the only one hating. The experts at the Dunhuang Academy hate it even more than I do. They were unwilling to express their feelings.
They just kept a straight face and studied Dunhuang documents for decades. Documentary films can be bought from foreign countries. The more humiliated you are, the more intensively you study.
When I went there, an international academic symposium on Dunhuang studies was being held in Mogao Grottoes. After a few days of meeting, a Japanese scholar made an explanation in a heavy tone: "I want to correct a past statement. The results of the past few years have been demonstrated." "Dunhuang is in China, and Dunhuang studies are also in China!"
The Chinese experts were not too excited. They left the venue silently and walked past the death tower of Taoist Wang.
Mogao Grottoes
Opposite the Mogao Grottoes is Sanwei Mountain. "The Classic of Mountains and Seas" records, "Shun chased three seedlings and encountered three dangers." It can be seen that it is the early barrier of Chinese civilization, and it has long been indistinguishable from mythology. How that battle was fought is hard to imagine now.
But the mighty Central Plains army must have come. At that time, the entire earth was still sparsely populated, and the clatter of horse hooves was hollow and loud. To allow such a dangerous mountain to serve as the screen wall of the Mogao Grottoes is so majestic that it is beyond the reach of manpower. It can only be an arrangement of fortune.
In 366 AD, a monk came here. His name is Le Zun. He has a pure moral character and a peaceful mind. He holds a tin staff and travels around the country. It was already evening, and he wanted to find a place to stay. When I was looking around at the top of the peak, I suddenly saw a strange scene: Sanwei Mountain's golden light was shining brightly, and it looked like thousands of Buddhas were leaping. Is it sunset? No, the sunset is just to the west, corresponding to the golden light of Sanwei Mountain.
The mystery of the Three Crisis Golden Light has many explanations by later generations, so I don’t want to discuss it here. Anyway, the monk Lezun was very excited in an instant. He stood in a daze, with the burning golden light in front of him and the colorful sunset behind him. His whole body was illuminated red, and the tin staff in his hand became as transparent as crystal. He stood in a daze, there was no sound between heaven and earth, only the overflow of light and the shroud of color. He had a vision, stuck his tin staff on the ground, knelt down solemnly, and made a vow that from now on he would make alms widely, build caves and statues here, and make it truly a holy place. After the monk finished his vow, the flames of both parties dimmed, and the pale dusk pressed down on the vast sandy plain.
Soon, the construction of Monk Lezun’s first grotto started. When he was begging for alms, he widely publicized his adventures, and believers from far and near came to pay homage to the scenic spot.
As time went by, new caves were dug out. From princes to common people, they either built alone or jointly invested their faith and prayers into this steep slope. From then on,
the history of this mountain is inseparable from the clanking of craftsmen’s axes and chisels.
There are many true artists hidden among the craftsmen. The legacy of the artists of the previous generation provides silent nourishment to the artists of future generations. As a result, this steep slope deep in the desert has absorbed immeasurable talents, standing ethereal and bulging
and becoming mysterious and peaceful.
It is very far away from any densely populated city. In the conceivable future, it can only be like this.
It is reserved because of its beauty, and it is hidden away because of its wealth. It insists on making every pilgrim pay for the long-distance hardship
in return.
It was just after the Mid-Autumn Festival when I came here, but the wind was already overwhelming. Along the way, I saw foreigners with red noses from the cold
asking for directions. They didn’t understand Chinese, so they just kept shouting: "Mogao! Mogao!" in a mellow tone, like
Call relatives. Domestic tourists are even more crowded. When the museum closes in the evening, there are still a group of tourists who have just arrived, begging the doorman to open the door in Kukuyang.
I stayed in the Mogao Grottoes for several days. At dusk on the first day, all the tourists were gone, so I wandered back and forth along the foothills of the Mogao Grottoes. It is difficult to sort out the feelings of watching it during the day; I have to look at this hillside and wonder about it again and again, what kind of existence is it?
Compared to the pyramids in Egypt, the Great Tower in India, and the ruins of the Colosseum in ancient Rome, many cultural relics in China often have layers of history. Relics in other countries are generally built for a while, prospered for a while, and then they are preserved as pure relics for people to admire. This is not the case with the Great Wall of China. It is always built and extended from generation to generation. The Great Wall, as a meandering of space, closely corresponds to the meandering of time. China has a long history, too many wars, and too many sufferings. No pure relic can be preserved for a long time unless it is hidden underground, in a grave, or in a grave. A secret place not noticed by ordinary people. Epang Palace burned down, Tengwang Pavilion collapsed, and Yellow Crane Tower was recently rebuilt.
The Dujiangyan Irrigation System in Chengdu has been preserved for a long time because it has always performed its water conservancy function. Therefore, all the historical sites that have been passed down to this day have always been endless and reflect the unique talents of hundreds of generations.
The reason why the Mogao Grottoes can stand out from other foreign monuments is that they have been accumulated layer by layer for more than a thousand years. When you look at the Mogao Grottoes, you are not looking at specimens that have been dead for a thousand years, but at life that has lived for a thousand years. To be alive for a thousand years, with smooth blood and smooth breathing, what a magnificent life this is! Generation after generation of artists are approaching us, and each artist is involved in a noisy background, holding a procession here that spans thousands of years. The complicated clothes dazzled our eyes, and the whirring flags made our ears roar. In other places, you can squat down and play with the ropes
A piece of gravel or a ridge of earth, but that doesn't work here at all.
To be dissolved by the torrent of history. Here, one's senses are not enough, so just abandon yourself and let countless pairs of artistic hands crush you into light dust.
Therefore, I had to wander back and forth in front of the foot of the mountain at this twilight moment. Recovering yourself bit by bit, you will definitely be shocked. The evening wind picked up, carrying fine sand, which made my cheeks ache. The moon in the desert is also very cold. There is a spring in front of the foot of the mountain, gurgling with sound. I looked up and listened, and finally, I had some clues to my ideas.
I still can’t remember clearly what I saw during the day. I just remember that what I saw at the beginning was a rich green-brown color flow, which should be the remains of the Northern Wei Dynasty. The color is as thick and calm as a three-dimensional painting, and the brushstrokes are as bold and bold as a sword and halberd. There were many stories in that era, and there were many brave men from the north galloping on the battlefield. Strength and suffering merged and flowed to the wall of the grotto.
While the craftsmen were painting these caves, Tao Yuanming in the south was drinking wine in his dilapidated home. Tao
I don’t know what kind of wine Yuanming drank. What was flowing here was undoubtedly strong liquor. There was no fragrant fragrance. It was just a force. A burst of energy could make people The man went crazy and drew his sword. It's a little cold here, a little wild, even a little cruel.
The color flow began to be smooth and soft, it must have been after Emperor Wen of the Sui Dynasty unified China. Clothes and patterns have become
gorgeous, with fragrance, warmth, and laughter. This is natural. Emperor Yang of the Sui Dynasty was happily sitting on his royal boat
going south. The newly completed canal was rippling with blue waves, leading to the rare and precious flowers in Yangzhou.
Emperor Yang of the Sui Dynasty was so fierce that the craftsmen would not
follow his laughter, but they had become grand and sophisticated, and it was predicted everywhere that their subordinates would rush out
Something even more astonishing;
The color flow suddenly surged, of course it was in the Tang Dynasty. All the colors that can be seen in the world are sprayed out, but
it is not wild at all, and it is stretched into fine, smooth lines, transforming into a magnificent symphony
Movement. Here it is no longer just the temperature of early spring, but the mighty spring breeze, everything is awakening, and every muscle of people wants to jump. Even the birds are singing and dancing here, and even the flowers are wrapped into patterns, cheering for this world. The sculptures here
all have pulses and breathing, and are filled with smiles and coquettish expressions that last for thousands of years. Every scene here cannot be seen with both eyes, and every corner is enough for you to linger for a long time. There is no repetition here, true joy never repeats
. There is no room for stereotypes here, and there is no room for true humanity. There is nothing here, only human life
transpiration. When you go to other caves, you can still think for a moment, but here, as soon as you enter, it will make you feel hot, make you lose your composure, and make you
just want to take off with your feet. No matter what the content of the painting is, one look at it will make you exclaim in your heart, this is human beings, this is life. The most attractive thing in the world is the life signal sent by a group of people who live comfortably. This kind of signal is magnetism, honey, and the magic well of the vortex. No one can escape from these vortexes, and no one can remain calm in the face of them. This is how the Tang Dynasty should be, and this is how it is considered the Tang Dynasty. Our nation finally has such a dynasty, and finally has such a moment, which can control such a magnificent flow of color and be able to command it with determination.
The color flow becomes more refined, this should be the fifth generation. The majesty of the Tang Dynasty has not died down, but it has gone from hot to warm, from wild to calm. The blue sky above the head seems to be a little smaller, and the breeze in the wild no longer inspires the mind;
It finally becomes a bit gloomy. The dancers looked up and saw the changed sky, and their dance postures began to become restrained. Still
There is still a lot of elegance, and there are still wonderful touches here and there, but the overall cheerful atmosphere is hard to find. Outside the cave, Xin Qiji and Lu You were still holding their swords and singing, and their beautiful voices seemed lonely. Su Dongpo echoed Tao Yuanming with his peerless genius.
The land of the Song Dynasty was a bit gloomy due to the downward trend, the layers of Neo-Confucianism, and the numerous stalemates.
It is difficult to find red in the color stream anymore, it must have been in the Yuan Dynasty;
After sorting out these hazy impressions, I feel quite tired, as if I have been in a hurry Long distance traveler. It is said that the murals of Mogao Grottoes are 60 miles long when connected together. I just don’t believe it. The 60-mile journey is easy for me.
How can it be so tiring?
It is late at night and the Mogao Grottoes are completely asleep. Just like looking at the sleeping posture of a strong man, there is nothing strange about watching it sleep. It is low, quiet, and bare, just like the hills elsewhere.
Early the next morning, I once again joined the crowd to explore the details of the Mogao Grottoes, even though I had no confidence.
There are all kinds of tourists. Some lined up and listened to the instructors telling Buddhist stories; some held painting tools and copied in the cave; some took out their notes and wrote a few words from time to time, whispering to their partners. Academic topics were discussed. They are like lenses with different focal lengths, facing the same subject, choosing the clarity and blur they need.
The Mogao Grottoes do have a rich depth of field, allowing different tourists to absorb it.
It’s not a bad idea to listen to stories, learn art, explore history, and explore culture. All great art will not just present one side of its life. They exist for the viewer, they look forward to the people looking up. A mural, together with the sighs and sighs in front of the mural, is the three-dimensional life of this mural. Visitors are looking at the murals and also looking
themselves. As a result, two corridors appeared in front of me: the corridor of art and the corridor of the viewer's soul; two depths of field also appeared: the depth of history and the depth of national psychology.
If you just want to listen to Buddhist stories, then its various looks and colors will seem a bit wasteful. If it is just for learning painting techniques, then it will not attract so many ordinary tourists. If it is just for history and culture, then it can only become an illustration in a thick book. It seems much deeper, much more complex, and much more mysterious.
It is a gathering and an inspiration. It deifies human nature, puts it into shape, and uses shape to inspire human nature. Therefore, it has become a colorful dream, a kind of holy precipitation, and an eternal yearning in the heart of the nation.
It is a carnival, a release. In its embrace, gods and humans blend together, and time and space soar. As a result, it allows people to enter myths, fables, and the neon light of cosmic consciousness.
Here, carnival is the natural order, release is the natural personality, and the paradise of art is the palace of freedom.
It is a ritual, a religion beyond religion. Buddhist principles have been distilled by the flame of beauty, leaving behind the mystery, purity and mastery that rituals should have. Anyone who knows about it will devote their whole life to this ritual and receive its baptism and influence.
This ceremony is so grand and vast. There is even no desert, no Mogao Grottoes, and no Dunhuang.
The ceremony has begun from the starting point of the desert, among the series of deep footprints in the sand nest, in the tents in the night wind
In each and every Among the pure white bones, on the back of a camel with fluttering hair. The eyes that have shed too many tears have been blunted by the wind and sand, but it doesn't matter. The eyes of the pilgrims coming back from there are so bright. I believe
all those who come for religion will definitely take away feelings beyond religion and store them in their subconscious throughout their lives.
Conservation turns into inheritance, and the next generation of travelers is vast. Why did a Gansu artist just capture a dance here and trigger a nationwide frenzy? Why did Zhang Daqian become popular in the world of painting by holding up an oil lamp and taking away some lines from here?
It’s just ritual, it’s just human nature, it’s just the deepest hiddenness. It is of little use to speculate too much about their skills. Their success lies only in worshiping Dunhuang wholeheartedly. Cai Yuanpei proposed at the beginning of this century that aesthetic education should replace religion. I clearly see here that the highest aesthetic education also has a religious style. Perhaps, the future of mankind is to establish a religion of beauty on this planet?
After leaving Dunhuang, I traveled elsewhere.
I have been to another Buddhist art resort, which has beautiful mountains and clear waters and convenient transportation. The astute commentator connected
Buddhist stories with today's social news and behavioral norms, and taught a weird moral course. Those who listened
smiled knowingly and looked ashamed at times. I have also been to a scenic spot with beautiful mountains and rivers. A tour guide pointed to several peaks that resembled human bodies and told chastity stories. The picturesque landscapes immediately became moral shapes. The listeners were full of interest and threw themselves on the bow of the boat to identify them carefully.
I am really afraid, afraid that this land will be filled with piles of goodness, crowding out the traces of beauty.
For this reason, I miss Mogao Grottoes even more.
When will any generous artist tell me the true secret of the Mogao Grottoes? Japan's Yasushi Inoue
's "Dunhuang" is obviously not satisfactory. Perhaps China's Hermann Hesse should write a "Narzis" "Narziss und Goldmund" (Narziss und Goldmund) depicts the emergence of religious art in such a touching and modern spirit.
In any case, the noisy, singing and dancing parade should be reunited on this land.
We are the descendants of Feitian.