11月的莫斯科,天寒地冻。我回来了,像往常一样,第一件事是到导师家去。在楼下按下他的门牌号——45,以往照例都是导师那句带着陕甘口音的熟悉的汉语:“门开了吗?”今天,这个声音再也听不到了,我的眼泪禁不住扑簌簌往外流。站在门口等候我的,是师母盖拉·瓦西里耶夫娜。是进导师的书房,还是进别的房间,她迟疑了一下,还是把我让进了导师的书房。书房有两间,被书柜、书橱挤得满满的,书又把每个书柜、书橱撑得满满的。 Moscow in November, cold weather. I am back, as usual, the first thing is to go to the mentor’s house. In the downstairs press his house number - 45, as usual in the past are the mentor that sentence with Shaanxi Gan accent familiar Chinese: “the door opened? ” Today, the voice can not hear again, I Tears can not help but flutter flutter outflow. Standing at the door waiting for me, is the teacher Galla Vasilievna. Is into the tutor’s study, or into another room, she hesitated a moment, or let me into the tutor’s study. There are two study, was bookcases, bookcases packed full of books, each bookcase, bookcase full hold.