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大风吹散了冬日的雾霾,也吹散了愈来愈显短促逼仄的岁尾时光。我在这荒芜的尽头捡拾着,将它们当作黄金的麦穗,或是时光的尸骨,反季节的果实。心中泛起莫名的喜悦与悲伤。确乎,世间每种收获中都包含了大片的死亡,这本是诗歌中恒久的命题,多少杰作都是因此而诞生,无须我来絮聒饶舌。但拾穗者确乎无法抑制许多身临其境的感慨,无法不因为一些具体的人与事,而生出悲喜交集的或忧愤混杂的意绪。我在记忆和文字的恍惚中断续记下了这些感受,并且一直拖到了春风刮起的时候。
The wind blew the winter haze, but also blew the more pronounced short-term cramped end of the year. I am picking up at this barren end, treating them as gold ears, or bones of time, and anti-season fruits. Heart inexplicable joy and sadness. Indeed, every harvest in the world contains a large number of death, this is a permanent proposition in poetry, how many masterpieces were born, no need for me to flatter rap. However, the scion really can not restrain many of the feelings of being immersed in the situation, and can not fail to give birth to mixed emotions or mixed feelings because of specific people and things. I remember these feelings in the trance of memory and words, and has been dragged to the spring breeze blowing.