他将至情流动成笔下四溢的华彩,他将真我交织成理念奔腾的旋律,他将挚意挥洒成行云流水的文字,他用厚实的肩膀承担起生命的重量……在这个有着惨白月色的夜晚,他独坐短松冈,一壶清酒伴着泪千行,他的面容在月光下憔悴而又落寞。他一定是赶了好久的路后才回到这里,他来不及洗去脸上的浮尘,来不及整理泛白的鬓角,他只想快快回到这里,再好好看看那个让他魂牵梦绕的女子,他仿佛又看见她凭轩倚窗,乌黑的长发倾泻而下。可如今,只有那棵棵松树掩映下的坟冢默默地回应他的呼唤,他的手轻轻抚过坟头,将清酒缓缓洒在坟前,深深凝望后毅然转身。这是怎样的悲痛!曾经伉俪情深,如今只剩下他自己形单影只,但他没有沉沦,他用他坚实的肩膀撑起这份悲痛,撑起他残落的家,用他的肩膀撑起对亡妻 He transferred his passion to the overflowing luminosity. He woven the true melody into a melodious melody. He swayed his way into the flowing lines. He shouldered the weight of his life with his heavy shoulders. On the moonlight night, he sat alone in Komatsuoka, a pot of sake accompanied by tears, his face falling in the moonlight. He must have been there for a long time before he came back here. He couldn’t time to wash away the floating dust on his face. He couldn’t finish the white-washed horns. He just wanted to come back here quickly and take a good look at him. The woman, as if he saw her again, leaned against the window and her long black hair poured down. Today, only the tombs underneath the pine trees responded silently to his call. His hands gently stroked the grave, slowly spilling the sake on the grave, and staring intently before turning back. What kind of grief was this! Once lyrical, he was left alone, but he did not sink. He used his solid shoulders to hold up the grief, hold up his broken home, and use his shoulders to hold up. To his late wife