Chapter 11 eighth

Our actions are closely related to us, As if phosphorescence clings to a phosphor; Those deeds certainly constitute our splendor, But it is nothing more than consuming ourselves. My spirit, you were extremely excited during your legendary journey. my heart!I once let you gobble up. My flesh, I have also fed you with love. Now, when I sit down and try to count my money, I get nothing. Sometimes, I look back at the past and search for some memories in order to perfunctory a story.I barely recognize myself in it, and my life is full of stories.I feel like I'm living in a moment of constant renewal.The so-called quiet meditation is an unimaginable bondage to me.I don't understand the word "lonely" anymore; once I feel alone, I am no longer myself, but I am all-inclusive, full of everything, and my heart is everywhere, I am everywhere, always driven by desire to a new place. situation.The fondest memories are to me nothing but the aftermath of happiness.The tiniest drop of water—even a trickle of tears—becomes a precious reality just by moistening my hand.

Menalc, I miss you! Tell me, to what seas is your ship tainted by foam and foam? Menalc, are you not coming back now that you are luxurious, enviable, and self-satisfied that you can arouse my desire?Now if I stop and rest, I'm not as rich as you... No;—you taught me never to rest. ——Aren’t you tired of this wandering life?As for me, I sometimes cry out in pain, but do nothing without feeling tired.When my body is tired, I blame myself for being cowardly, while my desires have long expected me to be braver. ——Admittedly, if there is any regret, O God of Love who feeds us, it is because the beautiful fruit you presented to me is rotten, and it was lost in vain without even taking a bite. ——Because, according to the "Gospel", if you lose one thing today, you will get a hundredfold compensation in the future... Alas!No matter how much happiness my desire captures, what use is it to me?I have already experienced such an intense pleasure that even a little more I am afraid I will not be able to receive it.

Some people in the distance say that I practice penance to atone for my sins... But what good is regret to me? — Sadie Yes, my youth was dark, It's too late to regret now. I have not tasted the salt of the earth, Nor tasted the salt of the sea. I thought I was the salt of the earth, I was also afraid that I would lose my salty taste. The salt of the sea never loses its saltiness, but my lips are too old to taste it.How did I not breathe the sea air when my soul craved salt?Today, which wine can make me intoxicated? O Nathaniel!Be merry while your soul smiles on me joyously; satisfy your desire to love while your lips are still fit to kiss, and your embraces are still pleasurable.

Because, you will definitely think and say the same: the beautiful fruit is right in front of you, so heavy that the branches are bent down, and it is overwhelming; I held my hands together and prayed, unable to reach out;—my soul and body were desperately suffering from thirst. ——Time also passed in despair. (Shunam beauty, is this true? Is it true?—— You waited for me, and I knew nothing about it! You looked for me, but I didn't hear your footsteps. ) well!Youth - people can only have a period of time, and the rest of the time is memory. (Joy knocked at my door, and desire answered in my heart, and I knelt and prayed, and did not open the door.)

It is true that running water also waters many fields and quenches the thirst of many lips.But what can I learn from running water?For me, what else is there besides coolness?And once the coolness passed, it turned into scorching heat again. ——The appearance of my happiness also flows away like water.Even if you wish for the water to flow here for a long time, it is for the coolness to stay forever. The inexhaustible coolness of rivers and rivers, the never-ending flow of streams, you are no longer the little water that you brought to wash my hands: the water was poured out after washing my hands, because it was not cool.The drawn water is just like human wisdom.Human wisdom, you do not have the inexhaustible coolness of rivers and rivers.

Insomnia wait.The waiting; the anxiety; the days on the trails . A dog howled mournfully at the moon. A cat howled like a baby. The city is finally going to taste a bit of peace, waiting for the next day when all hope is renewed. I remember the time when I wandered on the path, stepping barefoot on the stone slabs; I remember my head leaning on the wet iron railing of the balcony, under the moonlight, the luster of my skin was like ripe fruit waiting to be picked.Wait, you make us haggard... the overripe fruit we take a bite of when we are thirsty.Rotten fruit that stinks our mouths and makes my soul restless. ——Figs, the lucky ones, while they are young, eagerly bite the sour flesh and suck the sweet milk... After quenching their thirst, they will be refreshed and continue on the road—we will be on the road to end our difficult days .

(Needless to say, I have done my best to prevent this soul from suffering great wear and tear; but only by exhausting the senses can I divert the attention of the soul from God. My soul, which originally contemplated God day and night, tried every means to carry out various difficulties. prayers, consuming oneself in devotion.) From what grave did I abscond this morning? —(The seabird spreads its wings and plays in the water.) O Nathanael!The image of life, it seems to me, is like a delicious fruit in the mouth. Difficult to sleep some nights. Waiting in bed for a long time—and often I don’t know what to expect—I look for sleep in vain, but my limbs feel as limp as after a love affair.Sometimes, I seem to seek another more secret pleasure besides the pleasure of sensuality.

The more I drank, the thirstier I became, and the thirst increased from time to time until it became so intense that I wanted to cry over the desire. My senses were already worn out, and when I entered the city in the morning, the blue sky actually invaded my body. My teeth, too, ached from tearing the skin of my lips—the tips seemed frayed.The temples also collapsed due to oral sucking. ——A smell of onion blossoms in the fields would also make me sick for no reason. Insomnia ... Shouts and whimpers are heard at night: Alas!Crying, this is the fruit of that foul-smelling flower, the sweet fruit.Henceforth I shall wander with the nameless anguish of desire.Your shelters suffocate me, your beds hardly satisfy me. ——From now on, don’t look for your destination in that endless wandering…

—our thirst became so strong that I drank a full glass of this water before realizing how disgusting it was. ... Shunam beauty!You seem to me like a ripe fruit hanging in the shade of a closed and narrow orchard. Oh!I thought to myself that all human beings are weary between the two desires of sleep and pleasure. ——Between extreme tension and high excitement, the body is slumped and limp, just wanting to sleep—ah!sleep! --what!May no new desire arise suddenly and awaken me to the pursuit of life! ... All human beings are restless like sick people, tossing and turning on the sick bed, trying to alleviate the pain.

. . . After weeks of toil, comes perpetual rest. ... It's as if a person is dead, but what kind of clothes can be preserved! (Simplification.) Once we die - it's like undressing and going to sleep. Menalc!Menalc!I miss you! ... Yes, I know, I said: what does it matter? —here or there, we'd all be just as well. ... Now, night falls over there... oh!If you can turn back time!If the past can come back!Nathanael, I would like to take you to my loving youth, when life flowed like honey in me. ——Having tasted so much happiness, can the soul finally be comforted?Know that I was there, in those gardens, and it was I and no one else, listening to the singing of the reeds, breathing in the fragrance of the flowers, gazing at and touching the child-no doubt, there is a kind of joy that accompanies every new year.And yet, the old me, that other person, oh how can I return to that person! —(Now, the rain is beating on the roofs of the city, and my room is alone.) It is the time when Losif's pasture returns, and the sheep return from the mountains; the desert is golden in the evening light; the silence of the evening... now; (now).

June Nights - Paris Atman, I miss you; Biskra, I miss your palm. ——Tuguert, I miss your yellow sand...——Oasis, is the hot wind of the desert still raging, making your palms rustle?Sun-cracked pomegranate, do you let the sour seeds fall? Shetma, I remember your cool streams, and your hot springs that make you sweat when you approach them. —O Golden Bridge of Kantara, I remember your clear mornings and enchanted evenings. — Zagwan, I see your fig tree and oleander again. — Kairouan, I saw your cactus again; Sousse, I saw your olive tree again. —Umash, I imagine your desolation, the ruined city in the midst of the swamp; and you, dark Droghe, I also imagine your desolation, the deserted valley, the place where the goshawks hover bleak. Towering Shegar, have you been gazing at the desert? ——Mraiya Desert, do you still soak the delicate tamarix in the salt lake? ——Tema Xining, are you still haggard in the sun? I remember the barren rock near Amfida, from which honey dripped every spring, and there was a well next to it, and beautiful women often drew water half naked. Atman's hut, hut that has been crumbling, are you still there, now bathed in moonlight? —In that hut where your mother weaves, and your sister who is married to Amur sings or tells stories; and not far from there, by the gray and drowsy spring, a brood of turtledoves cooing at night. Desire!How many nights have I tossed and turned, absorbed in one dream!what!If this dream is the twilight, the flute under the palm tree, the white clothes on the path, the soft shadow against the strong light...then I will go! ... Little earthenware oil lamp!The night wind shakes your fire; the window disappears and there is only one sky; the quiet night on the roof; the moonlight. In the empty streets and alleys, sometimes a stagecoach or a rented carriage passed by; in the distance, the train blares and leaves the city, and the metropolis is waiting for the morning to wake up... The shadow of the balcony on the indoor floor, the flickering lights on the white pages of the book.Breathing. Now, the moon is covered by clouds, and the garden in front of me is like a pool of clear water... Sobbing, tight lips, overconfident, restless thoughts.How can I say it? "The real thing."--the other--"his" life matters; speak to him...   carol ——Concluding Remarks To Mr Ann Gide She turned her eyes to the emerging stars and said, "I know the names of those stars. Each star has several names and each has its own effect. They appear to be running smoothly, but they are actually fast, which is why they are shining brightly. A restless vigor is the cause of their swift motion, and light is its effect. An inner will impels and directs them; a beautiful passion burns and consumes them. Only thus are they radiant." "Those stars have their own effectiveness and power, so they are closely connected. One star is attached to another star, and one galaxy is in the whole. Each star has a predetermined orbit and follows the rules. If it changes its course, it will definitely interfere with the movement of other stars. Because every star is interdependent. Each star chooses a predetermined orbit, which is not only what it should follow, but also the orbit it is willing to follow. Every orbit seems to us to be destined, but each star Like most, is where it wishes. They are guided by an obsessive love, and their choice dictates the laws of motion; we are all bound by laws from which we cannot escape."