Chapter 34 Ithaca

The bright moon passes through the willows and comes up from the stream.The spring water is sliced ​​and tortuous, cascading down layers of rocks and gurgling.The branches hang low on the rock, shaking loudly.The moonlight trembled in these two uncertain spiritual realms!There was a deep echo in the deep sky in the stream.The rock shadows on both sides are so dark that it is mysterious.Pedestrians have been cut off from the bridge.The soft chants in the aura of the spring water, and my clear sighs.The breeze passed by like a swallow, pitying and laughing at the child who was sent alone.He asked me, "Who are you?

What's up here?Why is there such a glimpse of encounter in millions of years"? Wandering and moving, cold dew soaking clothes-these are the scenes in the painting, I became the person in the painting! Seven, one night, 1925. I just had a dream of three bright mountains and stars falling like rain, and woke up on the lake at dusk. The moon is about to be full!The sun has set, and the glow has not receded.The fish belly is white, reddish and purple, melting into the sky layer by layer, floating on the surface of the water, gently rolling the people on the water boat into the folds of ice cream.The moon is getting higher and higher.A light cloud floated over the lake, faintly dreaming this world of water and sky!Looking from a distance, I can see the orderly dots of lights on the shore reflected in the water, which are winding strands, and the light threads want to be pulled under the boat!Surrounded by purple mountains, enclosing the vast light and shadow.Is it a flower?Not flowers!Is it fog?Not fog!Is it a dream?Not a dream!There must be no such dream in the world, and this dream cannot be tolerated!The moonlight shines on my clothes and tells me, "With you and me, it must not be a dream"!

The lake held the side of the boat and told me, "You are on the boat, and I am beside the boat. There is a lake sky, a lake moon, and a lake mountain in the middle. All these prove each other, and it must not be a dream!"Confused and suddenly, I don't know what to answer-these are the scenes in the poem, I have become a person in the poem! Eight, three nights, 1925. Sitting from dusk till night.The falling stars twinkle in the dense pine-tops.Under the green grass among the layers of steles, there are many honors, love, talents and youth buried one after another.With tears of hesitation in my eyes, I held onto the stele and called out the people in the tomb one by one, and asked him preciously.He said: "Life is only a few decades, why bother to find more things to do"?I said, "I think life is only a few decades, so I have to find more things to do."Before the words were finished, I felt that my longing and extravagant hopes were wiped out in the contemptuous smile on the lips of the people in the tomb!Naturally, I have to lose to those who have come before, but how can I stop my journey of handsome stars?The essence of tragedy is: the conflict between heart and heart, the conflict between career and career, and the conflict between characters and characters.In the end, one party's candles and incense will disappear, and the wind and clouds will disperse.I am unwilling to be destroyed, I am unwilling to be scattered, and the essence of life is tragedy. Those with great wisdom and kindness, especially the important characters in the play, what will I do!Only then did I feel that the cold dew had soaked my light blue shirt, the wild wind was blowing, and the shadows of the pines stood tall—this is a tragic scene, and I became a character in the play!

Eight, seven nights, 1925. GraveyardinEastIthaca (This article was originally published May 20, 1926, Quarterly Bulletin, Vol. 11, No. 2.)