( 1)
Many years have passed, people say that the past can be buried, but I finally understand that this is wrong, because the past will get up on its own.
Suddenly, Hassan's voice rang out in his mind: For you, Qian Qian, Qian Qian for thousands of times. Hassan, Hasan, The Kite Runner.
Hassan and I drink the same milk. We took the first step on the same lawn in the same yard. Also, under the same roof, we say the first sentence.
I said "Dad".
He said Amir. My name.
Maybe I stood there for less than a minute, but today is still the longest minute in my life. Time goes by second by second, second by second, as if eternity were separated.
(2)
Our winter always comes and goes in a hurry, and scars remind us to miss that most lovely season.
"Now, I will help you chase that blue kite." He put down his sleeves, dragged the green robe he was wearing in the snow and ran away.
Hassan. I shouted. "bring it back!"
His rubber boots raised snowflakes and flew to the corner. He stopped, turned around, put his hand on his mouth and said, "Here you are, Qian Qian!" " "Then he smiled like Hassan and disappeared behind the corner. In a faded polaroid photo, I saw his bright smile again after 26 years.
I waited for him to speak, but we just stood there quietly, in the fading sky.
Part of me longs for someone to wake up and listen to me, so that I can live without this lie. But no one woke up, and in the silence that followed, I understood that this was a spell that befell me, and I will bear this lie for the rest of my life.
(3)
I think of Hassan's dream, our dream of swimming in the lake. He said, there are no ghosts, only lakes. But he was wrong. There is a ghost in the lake. He grabbed Hassan by the ankle and dragged him into the dark bottom of the lake. I am a ghost.
This is what I want, move on, forget, forget the past and start over. I want to breathe again.
If this is an Indian movie that Hassan and I used to watch, I should run out and splash the rain barefoot at this time. I should chase the car and stop. I should pull Hassan out of the back seat and tell him I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry. My tears will be mixed with the rain. We will hug in the pouring rain. But this is not an Indian movie. Sorry, I won't cry, and I won't chase that car. I watched my father's car pull off the road and took the man, the man whose first word in my life was my name. I caught a vague glimpse of Hassan for the last time. He collapsed in the back seat, and then my father turned the corner, where we had played marbles countless times.
I stepped back and all I could see was the rain outside the glass window, which looked like melted silver.
"Tell him he'd better shoot me, because if I don't fall down, I'll tear it to pieces. Fuck it. "
I don't remember when. All I know is that the memory is with me, and the beautiful past is perfectly condensed, like a thick ink, smeared on our gray and monotonous life canvas.
What happens in a few days, sometimes even a day, is enough to change a person's life.
Jardat is a starry night. Lovers can't sleep all night, enduring endless darkness, waiting for the sun to rise and take their lovers away.
Lu Xun's Diary of a Madman
( 1)
A gentleman, Kun Zhong, whose real name is Yin Jin, was a good friend in middle school. After years of separation, the news gradually disappeared. I occasionally heard of a serious illness the other day; When you go back to your hometown to visit, you will only meet one person, saying that the brother of the sick person is also. The old gentleman came all the way to see you, but he recovered early and went to a place to stand by and watch. Because I laughed, I published two diaries with the symptoms of the day. I might as well give them to my old friend. After reading it, I realized that I was suffering from "persecution mania" and so on. The language is quite incoherent, with many absurd words; It's not the month and date, but the ink font is different, so it's not a temporary handwriting. There are also some people who have a little contact with each other. Today I will summarize one for doctors to study. It is not easy for a word to remember Chinese mistakes; However, although people's names are all villagers, they are unknown to the world and it doesn't matter, but they are also easy to walk. As for the title, I will never change it again. I met on April 2, 1977.
(2)
one
Tonight, the moonlight is good.
I haven't seen you for more than thirty years; Seeing you today is very refreshing. Only then did I know that I was dizzy for more than 30 years before; However, you must be very careful. Why else would Zhao's dog look at me?
I feel horrible.
two
There is no moonlight today. I know it's not good. When he went out carefully in the morning, Zhao Guiweng's eyes were strange: he seemed afraid of me and wanted to hurt me. There are seven or eight people whispering about me and smiling at me with their mouths open; I was cold from head to toe until they had arranged everything.
I'm not afraid. I'm still going my way. A group of children in front were also talking about me there; The expression in his eyes was as blue as Zhao Guiweng's. I think I have a grudge against my child, and so does he. I can't help but say loudly, "You tell me!" They just ran away.
I thought: What's my enmity with Zhao Guiweng and the people on the road? Only twenty years ago, I kicked Mr. Gu Jiu's old running script (3), and Mr. Gu Jiu was very unhappy. Although Zhao Guiweng didn't know him, he must have heard the wind and felt very wronged. I agree that people on the road will be right with me. But what about the baby? At that time, they were not born. Why are their eyes strange today? They seem afraid of me and want to hurt me. This really scares me, surprises me and makes me sad.
I see. Their mother taught me this!
three
Can't sleep at night. Everything needs to be studied to understand.
They-some lashed the magistrate of a county, some slapped the gentleman's mouth, some were robbed of their wives by the chief executive, and some were forced to death by the creditors; Their expressions at that time were not so fearful or so fierce as yesterday.
The strangest thing is that the woman in the street beat her son yesterday and said, "Lao Zi! I want to bite you and vent my anger! " He looked at me with his eyes. I was surprised and couldn't hide it; The people with blue faces and fangs all burst into laughter. Chen Laowu dragged me home to catch up.
Dragging me home, my family pretended not to know me; Their faces are the same as others. I locked the door when I entered the study, but now I have closed a chicken and duck. The more I teach this matter, the more I can't guess the details.
(3)
A few days ago, the tenants of the prodigal village complained about the famine and told my eldest brother that a villain in their village had been killed by everyone. A few people will cut out his heart and eat it in oil, which will make him more emboldened. I interjected that both the tenant and the eldest brother looked at me. I just learned today that their eyes are exactly the same as those outside.
Come to think of it, I am cold from head to toe.
If they can eat people, they may not eat me.
Look at the woman's words of "biting you a few times", laughing with a group of people with green faces and fangs, and the words of the tenant the day before yesterday, which are obviously code words. I can see that his words are full of poison and his smile is full of knives. Their teeth are all white and complete, and this is the guy who eats people.
According to my own thinking, although I'm not a villain, it's hard to say since I kicked the ancient books. They seem to have ulterior motives, and I can't even guess. And when you turn your face, you say that people are wicked. I still remember my big brother teaching me how to do theory. No matter how good I am, I turn him over and he will play a few rounds. Forgive the bad guy a few words, and he will say, "Be wonderful and different." I can guess what their thoughts are there; Besides, it's time to eat.
Everything must be studied to understand. I remember eating people in ancient times, but I don't know. I looked at the history and found that it has no age, and the words "benevolence, righteousness and morality" are written on every crooked leaf. I can't sleep anyway. I read it carefully in the middle of the night before I saw the words through the gap. The book is full of "cannibalism"!
There were so many words written in the book and so did the tenants, but they all looked at me with strange smiles.
I'm human too. They want to eat me!
(4)
four
In the morning, I sat quietly for a while. Chen Laowu sent a meal, a bowl of vegetables and a bowl of steamed fish. Fish's eyes are white and hard, and their mouths are open, just like those who want to eat people. After eating a few chopsticks, I didn't know if it was a fish or a person, so I spit him out.
I said, "Old Five, tell Big Brother that I am bored and want to go for a walk in the garden." Old five refused and left; After a pause, I opened the door.
I don't move, study how they manipulate me; Knowing they won't relax. Sure enough! My eldest brother led an old man and walked slowly; He was full of fierce eyes, afraid that I would see him, but he lowered his head to the ground and secretly looked at me from the side of his glasses. Big brother said, "You seem to be fine today." I said, "Yes." The eldest brother said, "Please ask Mr. He to come today and give you a diagnosis." I said, "Yes!" In fact, I didn't know the old man was dressed as an executioner! It is nothing more than speculating about fatness in the name of pulse-cutting: because of this credit, I also shared a piece of meat. I'm not afraid; Although not cannibal, he is braver than them. Hold out two fists and see what he does. The old man sat with his eyes closed, touched for a long time and stayed for a long time; He opened his eyes and said, "Forget it. Just keep it quiet for a few days. "
Don't think about it, raise it quietly! After gaining weight, they can naturally eat more; What's good for me? How can I be "good"? They are a group of people who want to eat people, sneak around, want to hide, and dare not do it directly. It really makes me laugh to death. I couldn't help it. I laughed and was very happy. I know there is kindness in this laughter. The old man's face was bloodless and was suppressed by my courage and loyalty.
But I have courage. The more they want to eat me, the braver they are. The old man stepped out of the door and didn't go far. He whispered to his eldest brother, "Eat quickly!" " Eldest brother nodded. It's you! This is a great idea. Although it seems to be an accident, I also care: the person who eats me in partnership is my brother!
It is my brother who eats people!
I am the brother of a cannibal!
I was eaten by myself, but I am still the brother of a cannibal!
Others:
( 1)
Lonely wind
Since you are tired of pursuing, you have learned to meditate; Since there is a wind against you, you can sail on all the winds.
The wind aimed at you, the hunter. You were chased by the wind and never came back. Mother compared you to dandelion and gave you to the wind. She imagined you soaring in the wind and soaring into the sky. She is proud of your sublimation. When you are not crawling on the dirt, she laughs in the bushes.
She didn't set you as a hurricane. No, she only set you as a breeze, a gentle wind. Go your own way. Keep quiet. Blow your own horn. Calm down, calm down. Just as tough running water grinds angular pebbles, flexible wind will make the solid shell rot, peel off and fade. They blow me in their direction, and I pass by everything like the wind, opportunity, beauty, happiness and death.
I am the wind, which blows me to unknown corners, takes me away without my consent and never gives me back. -Excerpt from On the Road
(2)
Looking out my bedroom window, I can see a tall hibiscus tree. On that spring day when the smoke trees are jagged, the red dots are really charming. Touched my inspiration and stirred up my literary thoughts. Over time, I actually took this "neighbor" standing opposite the window as my confidant.
However, one morning, I looked through the window and suddenly found that a storm last night had eroded it beyond recognition. Suddenly, a sadness of "falling flowers" passed through my heart! I can't help feeling that I stumbled on the road of life, experienced many twists and turns and lost many beloved friends again and again. Isn't life like a flower in the wind? !
After a while, it gradually faded. Once, when I came back from the countryside, I felt that the indoor air was a little dull. When I opened the window inadvertently, I suddenly felt a bright eye: a piece of red bougainvillea caught my eye, and it was frozen under the setting sun. The unexpected surprise made me almost unable to control myself. I'm surprised. Why didn't I find this budding unyielding life behind death? Yes, the last petal of hibiscus has fallen, and people's praise for it has been forgotten in the past memory, but bougainvillea has grown up and is as red as fire, showing people the change and continuation of life. Who can say that gains and losses are not symphonies?
I stood in front of the window for a long time and deeply realized that there is no four-point scenery in life. As long as your heart is always facing the sun, you will find that every morning there will be a beautiful and hazy vision rising in front of your window, and the world will always convey the prelude of hope. -From the window/Wang
(3)
For more than 50 years, one thing I cherish most is the records of my classmates who graduated from high school, many of which can only be written by young people. Every time I look at the exhibition, I feel the surging waves lapping on the shore. A classmate left a message to the classmate nicknamed "locomotive": "Good locomotive, you drove away in a good car!" How simple and rich! A word is a song of life.
The generous creator gives everyone a car full of good things, the content may be slightly different, basically the same.
At that time, I also had a car full of good things: youth, health, wisdom, relatives, friends, good appetite and decent appearance. The train of life, so naturally forward. At that time, if you barely said you had any outlook on life, it was probably a happy outlook on life.
It was not until a little longer, or when I met a mountain or a torrent, that I realized that the train was not going well all the way. I have to run at full speed and refuel before I can drive there. The outlook on life in this period is a philosophy of struggle.
Then one day, I found that the weight of the train was reduced, and I suddenly understood that the creator was not so generous. He is actually very cunning. My train left, and he took the good things he gave me: youth was gone, health declined, relatives died, friends were far away, and my train was almost empty. The only thing he can't take away but still keeps is love and everything that comes from love; Because love is what you create, distribute and load. Love is a kind of thing, bright and colorful, growing constantly. If you don't give up, you can continue, and the train of life will never be empty. But this kind of love does not only refer to the love between men and women. The disadvantage of us women is that we often attach too much importance to love and regard it as the only truth in life. This is true, but it is not the only one. The only result is that once the train loses its balance, it will lose its balance and even roll over. The love mentioned here refers to the love for work arising from the collection of all kinds of love. The outlook on life at this stage can be called love outlook on life.
From the perspective of life as morning dew, there is not much difference between youth and honesty. A person has no love, selfishness or arrogance in his heart, although he is young and old; On the contrary, although old and young, even if "the road ahead will be inclined", there will be a realm of "wild flowers singing birds like spring". -Excerpt from Love The train is empty.
(4)
He will always remember the infinite bleak eyes of the deceased looking at him in the rain and the deep nostalgia for the living revealed in the eyes of the deceased.
He doesn't need her now. He felt that she was nothing like the image of her smell in his mind, as if it were not her at all, but someone else.
However, at night, lying under the hot bed, he felt that he should go to her, even if he couldn't. He felt his clothes in the dark and heard his brother's calm breathing and his father's cough in the next room.
The clucking of hens in the yard, the buzzing of mosquitoes, his own heartbeat-all these messy sounds in the world have never caught his attention before, and then he went to the street where he fell asleep.
But it's not bolted. When he pushed the door with his fingertips, the hinge gave a clear groan, which caused a cold echo in his heart.
"Even if you are not afraid of God, you will be afraid of metal."
He prayed to God in his heart. The miracle he expected was not the discovery of the philosopher's stone, the breathing that made the metal alive, or the invention of a way to turn gold into a room lock and a window hinge, but what had just happened-the return of Wusu Na.
WuSu na didn't catch up with the gypsies, but found the way that her husband failed to find when he searched for great inventions in vain.
He thinks that the weird habits of future generations are not much better than pig tails.
As usual, when her son predicted something, she used housewife's logic to break his prediction.
"I don't know who's coming," he insisted, "but this man is already on his way."
Make the story extremely complicated. This is an endless play.
In this way, they live in the reality that often slips by, and they can grasp the reality temporarily with the help of words, but once the meaning of words is forgotten, the reality will inevitably be forgotten.
Huo A. Boontia imagined this machine as a rotating dictionary, with people staying on the rotating shaft and manipulating the dictionary with the handle-in this way, all the knowledge needed for life flashed by in a short time.
But he obviously comes from another world, where people can sleep and remember.
He knows that this is not a temporary forgetfulness in his heart, but a colder and more thorough forgetfulness, that is, a forgetfulness of death.
He decided to find a quiet place to live in this corner that death did not find, and dedicated himself to silver plate photography.
However, Wusu Na has never taken a photo, because (according to herself) she doesn't want to leave a photo to be the laughing stock of future generations.
His face was tired and his eyes were Ming Che. Many years later, he stood in front of the firing squad with this expression. However, the young man in the photo had not heard the call of fate at that time.
Time gradually cooled his enthusiasm and rash plans, but strengthened his painful feeling that his hopes had failed.
He often sits late, gasping in a faded velvet vest, scribbling something on the paper with his thin bird claws; The ring on his hand has lost its former luster.
Flower clothes have completely changed their appearance. Unexpectedly, Rebecca's beauty surpassed Amaranta's. She has a pair of quiet big eyes, smooth skin and a pair of magical hands: her hands seem to be embroidered on the bottom of the embroidery frame with invisible silk thread. Young Amaranta is not elegant enough, but she inherited her natural nobility and self-esteem from her late grandmother.
"In this town, we don't use paper to give orders," he replied calmly. "Please always remember that we don't need others to tell us what to do, and we don't need others to take care of our affairs here."
He raised his eyes and saw a girl at the door, and his heart tightened with surprise;
-Excerpted from One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Finally, I present ten poems (the first five were written by Haizi and the last five were written by Gu Cheng):
( 1)
From tomorrow on, I want to be a happy person;
Comb hair, chop wood and travel around the world.
From tomorrow on, I will care about food and vegetables.
Living in a house facing the sea, spring is blooming.
From tomorrow on, write to everyone I love.
Tell them my happiness (article reading network: www.sanwen.net)
What did the lightning of happiness tell me,
I will distribute it to each of them.
Give every river and mountain a warm name.
Stranger, I will also wish you happiness.
I wish you a bright future!
May you lovers get married!
May you enjoy happiness in this world!
I also want to face the sea, and spring blossoms.
-"Facing the sea, spring blossoms"
(2)
I won't see you tonight.
I met everything in the world tonight.
But I won't see you.
A tree in late summer
The fiery hawthorn tree
Like a tall goddess' bike.
Like a girl who is afraid of mountains.
Standing at the door
She won't ask me.
Run!
I walked through the dusk
The wind blows to the distant plain.
I will support a lonely tree trunk in the twilight.
Hawthorn tree! A flash! hawthorn
I want to sit under your breasts until dawn.
Small and beautiful hawthorn breast
On the bike of the tall goddess
In the hands of serfs
Will go out at night.
-"Hawthorn Tree"
(3)
I ask to put it out.
The light of pig iron, the light of lover, the light of sunshine.
I asked for rain
I asked
Die at night
I asked for it in the morning
You've seen it
The man who buried me
The dust of the years is boundless
autumn
I asked:
The next rain
Wash my bones.
I close my eyes.
I asked:
rain
Rain is a lifelong fault.
Rain is joys and sorrows.
-"My Requirements: Rain"
(4)
The girl I can see
The maiden in the water
In the wheat field, please.
Clean up my bones
Like a pile of reed bones.
Bring him back in a box.
What I saw.
A clean girl, a girl by the river.
Please reach into the wheat field.
When I have no hope to sit in a pile
Mai zi Shang Jia hui
Please tidy up my messy bones.
Put it in a small wooden cabinet. Bring it back.
Like bringing back your rich dowry
But don't tell me.
Mother is holding the wood and drying clothes on the hay.
-"Poems of Death (II)"
(5)
wheat field
People will see you.
I think you are warm and beautiful.
I'm standing at the center of your painful questioning
You burned me.
I stand on the painful awn of the sun.
wheat field
Mysterious questioner
When I stand in front of you in pain
You can't say I have nothing.
You can't say I'm empty-handed
-"reply"
(6)
you
Look back at me.
Look back at the clouds.
I think
You looked at me from a distance.
You observe the clouds up close.
(7)
generation
The night gave me black eyes,
I use it to find the light.
(8)
This land is curved.
The land is curved.
I can't see you.
I can only see from a distance.
The blue sky in your heart
Blue? True blue
Blue is language.
I want to make the world happy.
The smile froze in my mouth.
Give me a cloud.
Erase the sunny time
My eyes need tears.
My sun needs sleep.
(9)
I am a willful child.
I am a wayward child.
I want to paint windows all over the world.
Let all eyes accustomed to darkness get used to light.
perhaps
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Painting mountains—
Full of fuzzy fluff
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring is exciting.
Turned into a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival-
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to erase all my misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation
Draw the sea—
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
( 10)
feel
The sky is gray.
The road is gray.
This building is gray.
The rain is gray.
In the ashes
Walk past two children
brilliant/bright red
aqua
I hope you can accept my answer. I've been looking for it for a long time, and I really need gold coins recently. These ten poems were written by two of my favorite poets. I hope you like them too! Hope to adopt! !