站在文学的门口,我拥一份敬畏的心情去聆听那些高贵的灵魂的歌吟,去驻足观看那隐藏在文字之后的精神之花,去收获一份灿若朝阳的理想与对于崇高的向往。
Standing at the door of literature, I am in awe to listen to the singing of those noble souls, to stop and watch the spiritual flowers hidden behind the words, to harvest a brilliant dream and yearning for the sublime.
当暮色四合时,一灯如豆,一书如帆,送我至文学的门口。那东临碣石的一代枭雄,酾酒临江,横槊赋诗,即使岁月染白了他的须发,依旧能够高唱“老骥伏枥,志在千里,烈士暮年,壮心不已”的不屈之音,那一份遒劲雄浑的意气,常使我击节而赞。那在乱世里漂泊沉沦的诗性女子,将国家之恨纺成染柳烟浓,纵然帘卷西风,人比黄花,也依旧要在绝灭之境,用柔弱的才情,留下浓墨重彩的一笔。那些铿锵或柔美的词章,溅落在历史的长河里,激荡起遥远的绝响。
When the twilight four, a lamp such as beans, a book such as sail, send me to the door of literature. The generation of heroes facing Jieshi in the East, drinking in the river and writing poems, can still sing the unyielding voice of "old steed, ambitious, old martyr, unyielding" even though the years have dyed his hair white. That strong and vigorous spirit always makes me praise. The poetic woman who drifted and fell in the turbulent times spun the hatred of the country into a thick shade of willow smoke. Even though the curtain rolled the west wind and people were more beautiful than yellow flowers, she would still be in the state of extinction, leaving a thick and colorful stroke with her weak talent. Those sonorous or soft words, splashed in the long river of history, stirring up the far-off sound.
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