Chapter 48 Section 12 Where the Three Rivers Confluence

Live in a small room in a small attic for three months a year.It is a rare joy in a lifetime, and the mood is more clear and clean than the house.Li Xiuying has a regular boyfriend who finds a job in the city and waits for her to graduate. Every day after dinner, she comes to the dormitory to find her. Every night, the dormitory supervisor will come to each room to roll the roll. She often rushes back before the door is locked at nine o'clock. .So I have three hours alone at night, without distractions.For the first time, I can freely read a book or clear my mind, which is a happy time that I have never had before.The small skylight opens to the bank of the Dadu River. In the dead of night, you can hear the river flowing through the window. It is not the sound of gurgling water, but the constant rushing sound of the deep-water river.gradually.I heard the birdsong on the other side above the sound of the water, and there was an echo under my small window. The simple two-tone bird's song was clear and pleasant, but it definitely didn't have the joy of the skylark in the poem, nor the depression of the nightingale. After a while, it seemed to fly away, and sang a few times with its monotonous double tone in the distance.The first night I listened to it, I almost stayed up all night waiting for it to come back.How is this possible?In my real life, which is full of worries even though I am young, on such a night, I can hear real birds singing along with the river water outside my window alone...

During the day I asked my classmates.Is it the cuckoo that is singing on the river bank now? They say it is the cuckoo, and you hear it singing "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" to urge the farmers to plant rice seedlings."Late spring in March, grass grows in the south of the Yangtze River, mixed peanut trees, and flocks of warblers flying around." Such beautiful words can't describe the beauty of the river bank.During the day, I opened the small skylight slantly, and countless different bird sounds flowed in along with the sunlight. The poems to be memorized go out of the west gate of the water, and the watermen carry the stone steps up and down the water, and walk to the river bank on the right.On the bank of the river where the weeds seem to be obliterated, there is a faintly discernible path leading to a waste brick wall. If you have the courage to step over it, you will find a small lawn facing the river.Behind the lawn is a clump of trees, and behind the tree is the building of my dormitory. Between the third and fourth floors, the small room is built diagonally upward.The small skylight, gleaming in the sunlight, seemed to reflect my surprise: twenty feet further on, the river bank turns, and there is no way.This is a piece of paradise that cannot be discovered by others. It is my private paradise, just like the grottoes on the rocks beside the Jialing River, it is my refuge from the world.

I found this place purely because of the word "fate". One morning in the second semester of the first grade, I came out of that shabby room a little late, and when I walked towards the gate, I saw an old man carrying water fall on the stone steps leading up to the boiler. Called him, but did not know how to stop the bleeding.I immediately ran back to the room, took out the medicine box I brought at home, cotton, red syrup, gauze, tape, and helped him stop bleeding.In the six years in Nankai, there was no room for me to use my skills. Now I can "do a good thing every day" when I am in trouble and leave home, and I am also touched.

I gave the bottle of red syrup and gauze to the wounded, and the two watermen told me that this was their foreman, because his wife was sick and his son was not up to date, and he had to carry water at the age of fifty.After that, I checked every morning to see if he had changed his dressing until the wound healed.In that era, the concept of medicine and nursing was primitive, and my scout knowledge was not too far behind here.That morning, when I was standing in the grass outside the Shuixi Gate and looking around, the old waterman was carrying water in the river with buckets.He saw that I was holding a book, so he came over, pointed to me in a low voice to take a small path to the right, and then turned forward, and I could find a place to read, "There are many people here, I will tell them not to disturb you."

This is really my richest property! In the two years since Leshan, I never told anyone that this place, like the cave on the river, is a place of the Holy Spirit to me.I was twenty years old that year. Facing a life of many threats, I felt that I might lose everything at any time and was alone.The only thing that must be left behind is my own heart, a heart that longs for knowledge and pursues goodness and beauty, and this small piece of pure land on the river bank was once a place where I put my heart at ease. When I first moved to the attic, I heard cuckoos singing at night, and it was as if Keats was in the courtyard of his ancestral house and heard the singing of nightingales nesting in the courtyard.I really want to find the tree where the birds nest. I searched many times in the direction of the window on the river bank, but of course I couldn't find it.In late spring, February and January, there are not only miscellaneous peanut trees in the south of the Yangtze River, but also warblers flying and grass growing! Sitting on the river bank.On sunny days, sailboats on the Qingyi River can be seen from a distance, with the rootless Jiang Yao behind.The Qingyi River still attracts people's imagination. Li Zichu passed Leshan thousands of years ago and wrote a poem "Emei Mountain Moon Song": "Mount Emei is half a round of autumn, and the shadow enters the water of the Pingjiang River. At night, the clear stream flows towards the Three Gorges. I miss you and go to Chongqing without seeing you." State." Pingqiang is Qingyi River. The Qiang and Yi people are aboriginal people in western Sichuan. I don’t know in which dynasty they were “leveled” by the Han people and changed the name of the river to commemorate the conquest, but generations of people still call it Qingyi River with the mood of Qingxi.This comes from the first melted snow river in the mysterious Xikanyexia Mountains, after pouring into the turbulent and roaring Dadu River under my feet, it turns left and flows into the Mianjiang River. The river water became clear and flowed past the foot of the 71-meter-high Buddha built on the mountain in the Tang Dynasty.

Facing such a majestic river and mountains, I couldn't help but recite the poem "Who on the riverside sees the moon for the first time, and when does the river moon shine on people?" in Liu Ruoxu's "Moonlight Night on the Spring River" over and over again. I knew it was so small, so Ignorant and so helpless; but I may be the first Chinese woman to come to this river and recite the English poet Keats.I walked back and forth along my part of the river bank, reciting Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale", "Ode to a Grecian Urn", "Ode to Autumn", and down to the last lines of "The Heartless Lady":

In the gloom, the prayer lips of the death warrior Open wide, heralds disaster: I woke up and saw myself Lying on this icy hillside. During the reciting room, I hurried back to the dormitory because of its eerie feeling, and went to recite it the next day.The first paragraph of the long, difficult and charming "Eve of the Feast of St. Agnes".The recitation of verses and my youthful poetic thoughts merged with the season and the world into a kind of life feeling that can never be dealt with lightly.At that time, he was ridiculed by his classmates as an ignorant person who "does not eat the fireworks of the world".In the long life in the future, it turned into a lonely and unexplainable uneasy status quo.

Of Keats's poems, "Ode to Autumn" is the only one I am happy to share with others. It is warm and resigned to fate.Ripe and perfect poetry.The fields after the wheat harvest show the natural throbbing of the seasons.The silly bee among the late-summer withering flowers thinks that summer will never end, while the cricket sings and the swallow flies around the sky, autumn is deep and has reached its completion. After reading about ten Keats poems.Teacher Zhu returned to the first part of "The Treasury of English Poetry", and talked about some sonnets of Shakespeare and Milton, showing me another way of writing lyric poetry.

At this time, May has passed and June has entered.On the days when there were English poetry classes, three or four of my classmates and I would still go out of the wet Shuiximen on Tower Street.Mumbling and reciting all the way to the Confucian Temple.But we also know that the outside world has changed.