去额尔古纳河流域寻找柳芭的足迹,是我看到了她生前绘画后做出的决定。天气已经很凉了,我走出火车站时,感觉太阳光有些黯淡。我望了望天空,太阳像衰弱的老人默默地注视着我。我嗅到这个季节凄凉的气味,嗅到原野里大片大片的土豆地里寒霜尽染的味道,嗅到白菜在微微颤抖的气流里抽出最后一片叶子的抽泣。我看见了德柯丽,她站在出站口正向我微笑。她美丽依旧,黄色的头发像洁净的稻草,散 The search for Liuba in the Ergun River Valley was a decision I made after I saw the painting before her death. The weather is already cold, and when I walked out of the train station, I felt some bleak sunlight. I looked at the sky, the sun like a weak old man silently watching me. I smelled the desolate smell of this season, smelling the frosty, dingy smells of the vast tracts of potatoes in the wilderness, smelling the sobs of cabbage in the slightly quivering airstream, drawing the last leaf of the weeping. I saw Delly, and she was smiling at me out of the station. Her beauty is still, yellow hair like a clean straw, scattered