有一件事久久萦回在我心中。那位给一家报纸写书评的行家剽窃了我旧日一篇文章。有人把那玩意寄给了我。白纸黑字,署的是另一个人的名字,我的文章开始了一种新的生活——一句一句,整段整段挪了个窝。我的话语兀自踱着方步,含义一点没变,语言韵味一如从前。它在和朋友们争论,打口哨,挥手致意,发挥得淋漓尽致。我的语句跨进一个并行的空间,而那是另一个人的作品。那些话远远的冲我发笑,活像是个离了婚的老婆,阔别数年,风采依旧,但已经嫁了个强盗,不错,思想是我的,可它们摇身一变,成了另一个人的,成了一个陌生人的内心感受。 看到自己那些已见生疏的话语,我又惊又喜,有点得意,还有几分愤怒几分惧怕——随即就只有痛苦了:听说这篇文章发表以后,别人,而不是我,揭露了这位 One thing long time linger in my heart. The expert who wrote a book review for a newspaper plagiarized my last article. Someone sent that stuff to me. Black and white, signed by another person’s name, my article started a new life - a sentence, the entire paragraph moved a nest. My words paced step by step, the meaning has not changed, the language flavor as ever. It is arguing with friends, whistling, waving, play most vividly. My statement spans into a parallel space, and that is another person’s work. Those words far rushed me to laugh, like a divorced wife, after a few years, the style remains the same, but has married a robber, good, thought is mine, but they transformed and become another person, into A stranger’s inner feelings. I was shocked and pleased to see my unfamiliar words, and I was somewhat scared of anguish - then there was only pain: I heard that after the publication of this article, others, not me, exposed This one