高原不是几个人浪漫的地方。高原就是一个民族的事情,是一个国家的,是以后、以后的很多年。我喜欢那个种树的故事。它是一个法国作家写的,很多年前光秃秃的普罗旺斯高原上,一个牧羊的男人独自种树,他挖一个洞,把种子放进去,那是一粒橡树种子,一粒白桦种子,一粒山毛榉种子。一战爆发了。二战结束了,这是一个世界的几十年,可这只是一个种树人的几十年。那无数个洞里的一粒粒的籽儿就长出来了后来的普罗旺斯葱茏。 Plateau is not a romantic place for several people. The plateau is a national affair, a national one, many years after it and beyond. I like that kind of tree story. It was written by a French writer. Many years ago, on a bare Provence Plateau, a shepherd man planted the tree alone. He dug a hole and put the seeds into it. It was an oak seed, a white birch seed, a beech seed. A war broke out. The end of World War II, which is a world of decades, but this is just a tree for decades. The grainy seeds of countless holes grew out of Provence.