“干荷叶,色苍苍,老柄风摇荡。减了清香,越添黄……”志贺直哉用干涩的中文吞吞吐吐地吟着诗词,坐在细长的白堤上,望着悠长的另一头,不禁黯然。没有父亲的理解,没有同仁的支持,此时的他千头万绪,无从理起。志贺直哉用左手揉了揉眼睛,不自觉搭上另一只手,捂着双眼,似乎这样便可以听到自己的心说最真实的话。这期间,林语堂正在白堤上惬意地散步。细雨对他而言,不过是雾气轻笼,给美景披上了一件轻纱。忽然,他看到长堤中间有个人独 “Dry lotus leaf, color gray, the old handle wind shakes .Improve the fragrance, the more yellow ... ” Shiga Naoya with dry Chinese humiliating poetry, sitting on the slender white embankment, looking long The other end, can not help but sadly. No father’s understanding, no colleagues support, this time of his multitude, can not handle. Shiga Naoya rubbed his eyes with his left hand, unconsciously catch the other hand, clutching his eyes, it seems that you can hear your heart that the most real words. During this period, Lin Yutang is on the Bai Di cozy walk. For him, the drizzle was nothing but a foggy light cage, a veil to the beauty. Suddenly, he saw a man in solitude in the middle of the Long Beach