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一杭州孤山是我一直不愿意谈的话题,不是因为无话,而是因为口吃;不是我不想写,而是火候还没有到。大学第一学期的时候,每周一到周六,我几乎每天两次路过孤山,因为那时我是个走读生,借助在家住孤山隔壁的亲戚家里,正在学习写诗。奇怪的是,那时我对孤山是不屑的,总是这样想:“这么矮的山也配叫山吗?”偶尔的一两个星期天,为了找灵感,我也曾经踏入临湖的中山公园,于是便能看到那红色的孤山二字,气贯笔墨,遒劲
A solitary hill in Hangzhou is a topic that I have always been reluctant to talk about, not because I have no words but because of stuttering. It is not that I do not want to write but that I have not yet reached the point where I am waiting. During the first semester of college, I walked the Gushan almost twice a day from Monday to Saturday, because I was a student at that time and was studying poetry writing at my relatives’ house where I lived alone. Strangely enough, I was disdain for Gushan at that time and always thought: “Is it such a low mountain called Mountain?” Occasionally, on Sundays and Sundays, in order to find inspiration, I also stepped in Zhongshan Park in the lake, so you can see the red Gushan word,