Chapter 10 Title VII

Crossing the Sea February 1895 Set sail from the port of Marseille. The sea breeze is strong and the sky is clear.The warm current that arrives early, the shaking of the mast. The splendid sea seems to be adorned with countless feathers.The waves are gurgling, urging the ship.Brilliant, overpowering impression.Think of the previous sailings. cross the sea How many times have I stood up and waited for the dawn... ...on a sea of ​​despondency... I saw the dawn come, But the sea did not calm down. The temples are sweaty and weak.Resign yourself to fate. night at sea The sea was choppy, with spray spray washing over the deck.The propeller is beating endlessly...

what!Drenched in cold sweat, out of my wits! The head on the pillow looks like it's about to split open... The moon is full tonight, and its splendor shines on the deck—but I didn't go to see it. ...and wait for the waves to come. ... The sea water surged up the ship's side.Suffocating and suffocating; rising up and falling down again.I was obliged to remain still; what am I at sea? —a cork, a poor cork tossed about by the wind and waves. Go with the flow, even forgetting about the waves; a pleasure without thoughts or desires.become an object. night It was particularly cool in the morning, and the sailors used buckets to pump up seawater to wash the deck; to ventilate. —I heard the scuffing of the planks with a stiff brush in the cabin.violent collision. —I want to open the porthole—and the wind from the sea hits my sweating brow and temples.I wanted to close the porthole again... the bunk, and fell down again.oh!The road before arriving in Hong Kong was terribly bumpy!A swirling reflection on the white bulkhead.cramped.

My eyes are sore... I sip on iced lemonade through a straw... Then, waking up on the new land, as if recovering from a serious illness...—— Various scenes that have not been seen in the dream. algiers Rocking with the waves all night, waking up in the morning to be on the beach.The plateau, the hills come to rest; Come here to rest from the day; shadows lie in the thorn bushes... There is still water flowing on the pasture, and the water and grass are lush beside the clear spring... Then, the long voyage returns.The coast is calm and the boats are moored in the port.We shall see migratory birds and boats at anchor, resting peacefully on calm waters; and nightfall opens to us its great peaceful and friendly harbour.

— Now is the time when all things dream. March 1895 Blida!Flowers of the Sahel!You are bleak and withered in winter, and you compete with each other in spring.It was a drizzly morning, and the sky was languid, mild and sad.The trees were in full bloom, and the fragrance wafted down the slender paths.There was a fountain in the still pool; in the distance came the sound of bugles from the barracks. Here was another garden, where the grove was deserted and the white mosque gleamed under the olive trees. —Holy grove!This morning, I dragged my extremely tired mind and body exhausted by lovesickness to rest here.Wisteria, last winter, I saw your shabby situation, but I couldn't imagine your blooming beauty.The wisteria swayed among the branches, and the clusters of flower balls hung like small censers, and the petals fluttered on the golden sand path.The sound of water, the gurgling sound of the pool, the wet sound; tall olive trees, white spiraea, forests of lilacs, bushes of thorns, clusters of roses; how tired you will feel when you come to this place alone and recall the winter , Even in the face of spring, I can't lift my spirits, or even hope that the scenery will be more chilling.well!The beautiful scenery is inviting, smiling to the lonely, but there is desire everywhere, like a groveling queue on an empty path.The gurgling sound of the calm pool made the surroundings even more silent.

I know the fountain, to wash the eyelids, I know the way to the sacred grove, Familiar with the coolness of the leaves and glades; At dusk, all is silent, I went there, Gently caressed by the breeze, More invites us to dream than to make love. Night fell on the cold spring, The dawn will rise in the cold water, Pale and trembling.Pure spring water. In the old days I looked at the sun and everything in amazement, I always feel that the morning sun has a fragrance, When the dawn comes, I came to the spring to wash my burning eyes, Can you still smell the scent? Letter to Nathaniel

Nathanael, you can't imagine this sun-bathed scene, the physical pleasure of this constant heat... An olive branch hanging in the air, the sky covering the mountains, the flute in front of a café Sound... Algiers is looking very hot and festive, so I'm going to be away for three days.I fled to Blida only to find that the orange tree was in full bloom... I went for a walk at first light, not looking at anything, but seeing everything.All kinds of neglected feelings gathered in me to form a beautiful symphony.As the days passed, my excitement slowed down, like a westerly sun slowing down.Next, I choose a person or thing that will arouse my affection--but I hope it will be active, because once my passion is fixed, it loses its vitality.Every new moment, I feel as if I haven't seen anything, I haven't tasted anything yet.I chase wildly and wildly what is passing.Yesterday I ran up to the top of the mountain overlooking Blida, intending to watch the sun for a while longer, to watch the sunset and the red and white balcony of the sunset.I accidentally discovered the shadow and tranquility under the trees; wandering in the moonlight, I often felt like swimming, but felt that my body was bathed in the bright and warm air, floating lightly.

… I believe that the way I am walking is "my" way, that I am walking the right way.Maintaining this unlimited self-confidence has become my habit. If I take an oath, it can be called faith. Biskra Women waited at the door, a steep staircase behind them.They sat solemnly on the threshold, their faces painted like gods, and their heads crowned with coins.At night, the street becomes lively.Lamps were lit at the top of the stairs, and each woman sat in the illuminated niche formed by the landing, all with their backs to the light, and their golden crowns shone.Every woman seemed to be waiting for me, waiting for me specially.You go upstairs, just drop a gold coin in her diadem; the whore just puts out the light; leads you into a small room, drinks coffee with you in a small cup, and sits on a low couch make love to you.

Biskra Gardens Atman, you wrote to me: "I am waiting for you to graze the sheep under the palm tree. Come back quickly! The branches are about to herald the spring: let's walk together and let go of all thoughts..." - "Atman , you shepherd, you don't have to wait for me under the palm tree, nor see if spring breaks through the branches. I'm here, and spring is in full bloom; we walk together, and all thoughts are removed." The sky is overcast today, and the fragrance of acacia flowers is strong.The air is warm and humid.Large thick raindrops floated, as if forming in the air... The raindrops stayed on the leaves, gradually increased, and finally fell suddenly.

…I recall a storm in the summer—really, can that even be called rain?The warm raindrops were so big and heavy that they beat the foliage of the palm garden.The heavy raindrops knocked leaves and petals to the ground, like garlands from lovers scattered in the water.The water is turbid and yellow, and the pollen is washed far away to reproduce.The fish in the pond fainted from choking, and the sound of the carp panting on the water could be heard. Before the rain, there was a hot wind blowing at noon, blowing hot breath into the ground.So now the paths under the trees are steaming; the acacia branches drooping, seeming to hide the couples having fun on the stone benches. —a paradise of pleasure, men in woolen garments and women in striped burqas, all waiting for the steam to seep into them.They sat on the benches as before, but they were silent, listening to the rain, and letting the rushing summer rain fall on them, wet their clothes, and bathe their bodies. —the air was so moist and leafy and so haunting that I couldn't resist the love and sat motionless on a stool near them. ——After the rain, the branches still drop raindrops.At this time, everyone took off their leather shoes or sandals, and stepped barefoot on the rain-soaked soil; the soft soil gave people pleasure.

Two children in white woolen sweaters led me into a park where no one was walking.The garden is long and narrow, and there is an open door at the end.The trees are tall, and the sky is low, as if hanging from the treetops. --wall. ——Villages in the rain. ——There are high mountains in the distance.The torrents of the rain; the food of the trees; the solemn and indulgent pollination; the erratic fragrance. Streams under the shade of greenery; canals with drifting leaves and petals, slow water flow, called "irrigation canals" by the locals. Gafsa's swimming pool is dangerously coquettish: "a shade harmful to singers".Now, there is not a trace of cloud in the night sky, not even the mist, and it looks very deep.

(The handsome boy in the white wool arabesque was named Azus, which means "babe." The other was called Wadi, which means "born in the season of roses." ) The stream is as warm as the air, We lean over and wet our lips... A dark stream of water, which could not be seen clearly in the night, until the moonlight sprinkled pieces of silver on the water.This stream seems to flow from the bushes, and there are nocturnal animals to move about. Biskra - early morning Out at dawn...into...the fresh air.A oleander swaying in the shivering morning. Biskra - dusk Birds chirped in the tree.what!It was unimaginable that the birds could sing so loudly, as if the trees were calling--as if all the leaves were crying--because the birds hidden in the canopy could not be seen.I thought: This passion is too strong, they will die if they cry like this.What's the matter tonight?Don't they know at all that when the night is over, a new dawn is born?Are they afraid of eternal sleep?Do they want to have fun overnight?It's like falling asleep and falling into the long night forever.How short are the nights of late spring! --Hey!The summer morning light will wake them up again; they are very happy, but only vaguely remember the sleep of last night, and then ease the night's fear of death a little. Biskra - night The bushes were silent, but the surrounding desert vibrated with the love song of the Grasshopper. Shetma The days grow longer. — lie here.The leaves of the fig tree grew again.Rub the leaves with your hands, leaving a fragrance; the petioles flow out tear-like whey. Sudden heat. --what!My flocks come, and I hear the flute of my beloved Shepherd.Is he coming?Or should I go forward? Time moves slowly. ——Another year-old dried pomegranate hangs on the branch, shriveled and cracked, and new buds have gathered on the branch.Turtle doves flitted among the palm trees.Bees are busy on the grass. (I remember that there is a well near Amfida, and beautiful women often go to draw water. Not far from there stands a large gray-red rock. Someone told me that there are often bee swarms hovering on the top of the rock; sure enough, swarms of bees Humming there, the beehives are built in the crevices of the rocks. In summer, the beehives can’t stand the heat and melt, and the honey syrup flows down the rocks, and the residents of Amfida come to collect honey.) — Shepherd, come quickly Bar! —(I chew a fig leaf.) summer!A molten stream of gold; a luxuriant abundance; a strong sun resplendent.The joyful overflow of love!Who wants to taste honey?The wax of the hive has melted. However, the most beautiful scene I saw that day was the flock of sheep rushing back to the pen, their little hoofs slamming on the ground in a hurry, and the rustling sound was like a shower; the desert sun set in the west, and the sheep's hooves were dusty. oasis!Like islands floating in the desert.The palm trees in the distance are green, indicating that there is a water source, and the roots can drink freely.Sometimes it is true that the water gushes like a spring, and the phlox bows down to the surface of the water. — We got there about ten o'clock that day, and at first we were reluctant to go any further.The flowers in the garden are very charming and make people feel attached. --oasis! (Ahmed told me: the next oasis is much more beautiful.) oasis.The next oasis is more beautiful, with flowers blooming and rustling trees; taller trees; hanging from more abundant springs.It was noon, and we went into the water to take a bath. —and then we had to go again. oasis.The next oasis, how can I say it?It's also a little more beautiful.We waited there for nightfall. garden!I still want to say how quiet and comfortable you are in the evening!garden!Some are green and dripping, giving people the feeling of taking a bath; some are like orchards with single trees, and apricots are ripe; in other gardens, flowers are in full bloom, bees are buzzing, and the fragrance of flowers is overflowing, so strong that you want to drink it, like alcohol mash So intoxicating. The next day, I just love the desert. Umash At noon, we arrived at the oasis, right between the rocks and the yellow sand.The tired village under the scorching sun does not seem to be waiting for us.Palm stood still.A few old men chatted in the doorway, the men were drowsy, and the children were noisy in the school; no women were seen. This village is made up of mud houses, and the alleys are rose-colored during the day and purple at dusk; there is no one at noon, but it becomes lively in the evening; the coffee shop is full, the children are out of school, and the old man is still chatting in the doorway; When it is dark, the women ascend the balconies, they take off their veils, they are all as beautiful as flowers; they talk long and hard to each other about their troubles. This street in Algiers smells of anisette and absinthe at noon.In the Moorish Café in Biskra, customers drink only coffee, soda and tea.Arabian tea, sweet with hints of pepper and ginger; the drink was bland, hard to drink, and couldn't finish a glass, evoking a more exuberant and extreme Orient. On the square in Thugurt, there are vendors selling spices.We bought a variety of resinous incense: some that smelled good, some that chewed, and some that were burnt.The resin for incineration is made into pellets, and when ignited, it emits choking smoke and a refreshing fragrance.This kind of smoke can arouse religious speculations. When religious ceremonies are held in mosques, it is this kind of resin incense that is burned.The spices chewed will make people feel bitter in the mouth immediately, sticking to the teeth, very uncomfortable, and the aftertaste does not disappear for a long time after spitting it out.The smell of spices only needs to be smelled. At the home of the Islamic hermit in Temasinin, the last thing served on the table is the fragrant cake; the cake is decorated with golden, gray or rose-colored leaves, which seem to be made of bread crumbs, and the mouth is crispy, just like chewing sand. , there is no lack of flavor: there are roses, pomegranates, and some seem to be completely out of flavor. ——Dining here, if you don't smoke hard, it's hard to get drunk.The amount of dishes is unappetizing, and every time a dish is served, the topic changes accordingly.After the meal, a black servant brought a kettle and poured water soaked in spices on your fingers, followed by a basin below.The women in that place wash your hands in the same way after having fun with you. Turgurt The Arabs camped in the square; the blazing bonfire; the smoke that could hardly be seen in the night. —Caravan in the desert!The caravans that Xiaoxing stayed overnight, and the caravans that were exhausted from the journey, were always intoxicated by the mirage, but now they are downcast!Caravan!Why can't I go with you, Caravan! Some caravans traveled east to collect sandalwood, pearls, Baghdad honey cakes, ivory and embroidery. Some caravans traveled south to find amber, musk, gold dust and ostrich feathers. Some caravans choose the west, starting at dusk, and gradually disappearing in the dazzling sunset. I have seen caravans returning exhausted: camels ran in the square, merchants unloaded their loads, it was a large cargo bag sewn with canvas, I don't know what it contained.The other camels carried the women, all of whom hid in pack palanquins.There are also a few camels carrying tents and other things, and they set up tents to camp at night.what!The boundless desert yellow sand, the endless majestic Lawton! ——A bonfire was lit in the square, and dinner was prepared. what!How many times has the dawn risen to the east, brighter than a ring of light;--how many times have you come to the edge of an oasis, where the last palm trees have withered, and life can no longer conquer the desert;--how many times This time, my desire reaches out to you, the scorching desert bathed in the sun, just like leaning down to this incomparably strong and dazzling light source... How excited to look up and how strong love is needed to overcome the scorching heat of this desert? Barren land, pitiless land, fervent and sincere land, land of the prophets—oh!Desert of misery; desert of splendor, I loved you madly. On the salt lake in North Africa where a mirage appeared at that time, I saw a white salt layer like the surface of the water. ... I know that the blue sky is reflected on the surface of the lake, and the salt lake is as blue as the sea. ...but why are there clusters of rushes, and a little farther on, crumbling shale cliffs?Why are there visions of floating ships and distant palaces? —all these distorted landscapes, suspended above this unreal deep water. (The smell is disgusting from the shores of the salt lake, the horrible marl, soaked with salt, steaming in the hot sun.) I have seen, in the slanting rays of the rising sun, Mount Amakaldou turn rose-coloured, as if of a burning substance. I have seen the howling wind in the sky, flying sand and rocks, making the oasis panting, like a panicked ship hit by a storm; the oasis was overturned by the strong wind.And on the streets of small villages, skinny men are naked, huddled up, enduring the torment of heat and thirst. I have seen the camel's bones cover the field on a desolate journey.The camels were abandoned by the merchant traveler because they were too tired to travel, and then the carcasses rotted, covered with flies, and emitted a stench. I have seen such twilights too; there is no song heard but the screeching of insects. ——I also want to talk about the desert: The desert where Stipa slender stems grows is full of snakes, and as far as the eye can see, it is a green field undulating with the wind. A rocky desert, barren land.The shale glistens, the tiger beetles dance, the rushes dry.Under the scorching sun, everything crackled. In the desert on the clay surface, as long as there is a trickle of water, everything will be full of vitality.As long as it rains, everything will be green.Although the land here is too dry, it is rare to show a smile, but the grass seems to be more tender and fragrant than other places.Fearing that they will be dried by the scorching sun before they bear fruit, the grasses are in a hurry to bloom, pollinate and sow fragrance. Their love is short-lived.The sun came out, the earth cracked and weathered, and the water escaped from every crack.The earth was cracked beyond recognition, the rain was torrential, and the torrent poured into the ditches, washing the earth; but the earth was powerless to retain the water, and remained dry and hopeless. A desert of yellow sand. ——The quicksand like the waves, the constantly moving sand dunes, guide the caravan like a pyramid in the distance.Ascend one dune, and you can see the top of another dune in the sky. When the wind blew, the caravan stopped, and the camel driver hid behind the camel to avoid the wind. Desert with endless yellow sand—life is extinct, only the pulsation of wind and heat, cloudy and rainy, the desert is as soft as velvet, in the sunset, it looks like a burning flame; in the morning, it seems to be reduced to ashes.White ravines formed between the dunes, and we rode through them, immediately covering every track with dust.Due to exhaustion, every time we reached a dune, we always felt that it was difficult to cross. The endless desert of yellow sand, I should have loved you passionately long ago!May your smallest particle of dust reflect the whole of the universe in its tiny space!Mochen, do you still remember what life is, and what kind of love is life separated from?Mote also hopes to be praised by people. O my soul, what do you see in the yellow sand? —Piles of bones, empty shells... One morning we came to rest at the foot of a high sand dune.We sat down; it was still shaded, with rushes quietly growing. As for the night, the vast night, what can I talk about? This is slow sailing. The waves lost three points to the dunes. Than the light of the sky. ——I am familiar with such nights, and feel that the stars are extraordinarily bright. Saul, you searched for a she-ass in the desert and failed to find it, and unexpectedly got the throne you did not seek. Living with fleas can be fun too. Life used to be wild and sudden to us.I hope that the happiness here is like the flowers in the barren tomb.