岁月的流逝漂白了记忆。可不知为什么,十几岁孩提时的欢乐,除夕放小鞭的着迷、心跳和感奋,却常常从记忆的隧道突奔出来,色泽如初地回归到我的面前。当我在除夕晚上,把小竹节鞭、亦称小鞭的引信点燃抛向天空那一瞬,当它在天空自由坦荡地放响那一瞬,当它燃落的纸屑在天空粲然飘洒那一瞬,其视觉、听觉和感觉带来的潮水般的趣味和满足,会在我血管里热切地涌流,会在我脉搏里张扬地传播。 The passage of time bleached memories. I do not know why, the joy of adolescence, Tim whip on the New Year’s Eve fascination, heartbeat and excitement, but often from the memory of the sudden burst out of the tunnel, the color returned to me as ever. When I throw the fuze of the bamboo whip, also called a whip, on the sky on the New Year ’s Eve, when it freely and unrestrained in the sky, when the light of its falling paper sank in the sky, The tide-like fun and satisfaction of vision, hearing and feeling will flow in my bloodstream eagerly and will spread in my pulse.