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蹇老去世了,对蹇老的悼念诚然是共同的。于我来说,此时此地,此情此景,首先浮上心头的,则是蹇老留给我的一封信。我已经不止一次地领会过它了,现在则禁不住又一次地想起它来。我无法准确地说出蹇老写这封信的时间。因为这封信不是邮寄的,没有邮戳;也不能依据信件本身来判定,因为蹇老也没有在末了签写日期。但收到这封信的时间则清楚无误,是一九九三年六月里,其时新近一次的省文代会刚开过,蹇老也刚卸任省文联主席的职务不久。我没有出席那一次文代会,那时候正抱病而休歇着。这天中午,便收到了这封由省作家协会转来的信。开始的时候我把信接在手里,还有些漫不经心。但稍一打
When the old man died, it is true that the memory of the old man is common. For me, here and now, this scene, first of all, comes to mind, it is a letter I always left to me. I have understood it more than once, and now I can not but think of it again. I can not accurately say the time when I wrote this letter. Because this letter is not mailed, there is no postmark; nor can it be judged on the basis of the letter itself, since Nepalese did not sign the last date either. However, the time of receipt of the letter was clear and clear. It was the last time in June 1993 that the newly-opened Provincial Assembly of the Province was just opened and the elders of the province just stepped down as the chairman of the Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles. I did not attend that day, when I was sick and rest. At noon this day, I received this letter from the Provincial Writers Association. At the beginning, I put the letter in my hand, and some casual. But a little beat