要是朱东润先生还活着,今年虚岁一百。他一直相信能活到一百岁。住院之前,仍顽强勤奋,笔耕不辍。1987年的一天,我到他家,见楼梯旁贴有一张小纸头,大意是:请来访者不要请他写字。我想,早就应该有这么一个告示了:他正忙于修改回忆录《八十年》,而向他索求墨迹的人太多,招架不了。说到这告示,他问:我给你写过字吧?我回答,写过一幅。随后就很放肆地加上一句实话:只可惜那幅没反映您的书法艺术成就。并无求他再写一幅的意思,只是随便说说。不料,他竟说,等天气好时,我给你再写一幅。如此另眼看待,很出乎我意外。几天后,在宿舍门房收到一个牛皮纸大信封,是他一幅狭长的墨宝,131X32CM。那气势说高山苍松,说虬龙出海,都既无不可又不够贴切。它是书法,更是一种品格,一种意志。我看过朱先生的墨迹愈百,如果由我挑选,就是要这一幅。 If Mr. Zhu Dongrun still alive, this year’s imaginary hundred. He always believed that he could live a hundred years old. Before he was hospitalized, he was still hardworking and diligent. One day in 1987, I went to his house and saw a small piece of paper attached to the stairs. The effect was: Please do not invite visitors to write to him. I think there should have been a not too long ago a reminder that he was busy modifying the memoir “Eighty Years,” and that too many people sought his ink and could not parry it. When it comes to this sign, he asks: Did I write to you? I replied and wrote one. Then very unconscionable to add a truth: Unfortunately, that did not reflect your calligraphy art achievement. Did not ask him to write a meaning, just casually talk. Unexpectedly, he actually said that when the weather is good, I’ll write another one for you. So different, very unexpected. A few days later, in the dorm concierge received a kraft paper envelope, is a long and narrow ink, 131X32CM. That imposing mountain Pines, said dragons to the sea, both neither unreasonable enough. It is calligraphy, but also a character, a will. I have read Mr. Zhu’s ink more, if by my choice, is to this one.