那年冬季,在九华山起早了。白雪覆盖了九华街,大雄宝殿里没有香客。早起的僧人做着早课,引磬声清,木鱼声浊。晨雾纠缠着整座寺院,老师跌坐在木桶里打盹,像一尊罗汉。每一天都如此的平淡而寻常。好像一切都还来得及。一切都尚未开始,都还没有结束。每一天都在轮回,无论是树上的麻雀,还是路上的行人。 That winter, early in the Jiuhua Mountain. Snow covered Jiuhua Street, there are no pilgrims in the main hall. The early monks are doing early lessons, Yin cited clear sound, Muyu voiced. Morning fog entangled the entire temple, the teacher fell asleep sitting in the bucket, like a Lohan. Every day is so plain and unusual. It seems like everything is too late. Everything has not yet begun, are not over yet. Every day in the reincarnation, whether it is a tree sparrow, or the way the pedestrians.