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,吹梅笛怨得哀愁,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 the bitterness of dyeing willow smoke and playing the plum flute. Even though the curtain rolled the west wind, people were still in the state of extinction, leaving a strong ink and color with weak talent. Those sonorous or soft words, splashed in the long river of history, stirring up the far-off sound.
被文学艺术化了的灵魂与生命,在文学的殿堂里凝固永恒。当我站在文学的门口,那轩举的意气已将我深深感染,那盛下了悲欢离合的真情泪滴已将我浸湿,他们以文学的方式存在于历史的视线里,轻易地将我俘获,又用他们高贵灵魂锻造的文字凝滞我的步伐,不肯再做那人间的闲狐兔。
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