我在望不到边际的坟堆中茫然前行,心中浮现出艾略特的《荒原》。这里正是中华历史的荒原:如雨的马蹄,如雷的呐喊,如注的热血;中原慈母的白发,江南春闺的遥望,湖湘稚儿的夜哭;故乡柳荫下的诀别,将军圆睁的怒目,猎猎于朔风中的军旗,随着一阵烟尘,又一阵烟尘,都飘散远去。(《阳关雪》) I was in a doldrums in the marginal tomb, a heart of Elliot’s “wasteland.” Here is the history of China’s wilderness: such as the rain horseshoe, thundering cry, such as note of blood; Zhongzuo mother’s white hair, Jiangnan spring boudoir look, lake night child crying; hometown willow farewell, The general’s eyes widened his anger and hunt the flags in the wind of the new moon. With a burst of smoke and dust, another wave of smoke and dust drifted away. (“Snow off”)