我格外小心地向每一本艺术史的编撰者寻问,你们能否把我的家乡云南通海保存着的一件伟大艺术作品——三圣宫,写进你们不朽的著作中?我的这一寻问,是在某个夕阳西下,我刚送走了一批来自省外的诗人、作家之后,他们长长的身影和叹为观止的赞赏声,还贪婪地依附在三圣宫周围的时候,我迎着最迷人的阳光,并投去自信的一瞥,从心底里发出来的一种没有声音的振颤,一种欢腾,一种在喉管里流过艺术汁液之后全身心的舒展。此时的三圣宫是一天之中最安详、最灿烂的时候,金黄得像成熟的暗火一样的阳光照在大殿上,似乎照见了这座古寺的生命。它的风,它的皮肤,它的声音,它的气息和它的灵魂,这些平时在我的感官中最普通的东西,现在全部出现在热烈的光线表面,让我看到了古寺 I am especially careful to ask every creator of the history of art. Can you include in my immortal writings a piece of great work of art preserved in the sea of ​​Yunnan, my hometown? One questioning is that after a certain sunset, I just sent away a group of poets and writers from outside the province, their long figure and breathtaking admiration, but also greedily attached to the San San Gong around I confronted the most fascinating sunshine and cast a confident glimpse of a voiceless tremor emanating from my heart, a jubilation, a stretch of body after the flow of artistic juice in the throat. San San Gong at this time is the most peaceful and most brilliant day, golden like a mature dark fire shines on the hall, it seems to have seen the life of this ancient temple. Its wind, its skin, its voice, its breath and its soul, these usual things in my senses are all now appearing in the warm light of the surface, allowing me to see the ancient temple