在冬天出行,去看繁茂后面苍茫、真实的生命,去遇见前世的活佛,解一朵梵音里的禅花。在稻城,也许就不会失眠,那里冷,我会缩成刺猬的样子,给自己取暖。药就不带了,带些糖,杏仁巧克力,咖啡和烟不能忘。书也不带了,要学着改变与书叙寂。不知道稻城的阳光怎样?月光呢?十点离开香格里拉。出城。两旁是我熟悉的藏房,土墙木瓦。旷野里,到处可见的,是青稞及干草架,散落在草色枯黄牧场里洁白的羊群,像绣在一块黄布上的星星,也有亮闪的光。黑壮的牦牛偶尔从枯败的狼毒丛里伸头来,向我张望,眼神里有莫名的灵光,我却读不懂,那未知的思想。 Travel in the winter, to see the vast and prosperous behind the real life, to meet the past lives of Buddha, a Buddhist interpretation of Zen Buddhism. In Daocheng, maybe not insomnia, where cold, I will shrink into the hedgehog look, to warm their own. Without medicine, bring some sugar, almonds, coffee and smoke can not forget. The book is not taken, to learn to change and narrative silence. Do not know how the sunshine of Inagi? Moonlight? Leave Shangri-La at ten o’clock. Out of town. I am familiar on both sides of the hidden room, wall shingle. The wilderness, visible everywhere, was the gladiolus and the hay raft, scattered among the white flocks of grassy yellow pastures, like the stars embroidered on a yellow cloth, and the sparkling light. Occasionally, the black yak ran out of the wolf’s poisonous withered corpse and looked to me with an inexplicable light in his eyes, but I did not understand the unknown thought.