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经年里,记忆的馨香

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Classics in year, of memory fragrance(经年里,记忆的馨香)
纯正美文:

Memory always is so piquant sometimes with but, in time of all previous classics after filtering, let what I see be like the garment character that hide after the wall together and shows only. The nature that can show is closer, deeper, and those are far, shallow, resembling is the sandwich biscuits that wrapped icing, everything be mingled with is worn, lapping, put in memorial extreme. Always think I already went aground them, but be in casual early morning and eventide, I see memory constantly fragrance, taking its peculiar as before, let me smell instantly the peculiar flavor in the years when those. The sort of feeling, resemble the wind that is early morning, now.. is close now.. is far, pure and fresh and do not break its true, insipid not unfamiliar however.

When having a lot of people, loneliness and become silent can be flooded by mirth probably; A lot of things want busy when, desolate and kink are met by temporary oblivion; But when everything calm, busy was over, a person became quiet accession, a few vast and familiar feeling can be in the heart, in the head, and even appear in eye shade. I often have such a few feelings, see the thing of certain likeness for example, can can't help free time is thought of, the feeling that for an instant a kind of old times has appeared diffuses in at the moment, the breath that accompanying me after that let me smell the flavour in its days. Always feel each paragraphs of memory, even if just hit a sneeze, engrave then in those day can have its inherent flavor. Be? When we are recalling that paragraph of time that licks lollipop with young associate, of the lollipop in days sweet the taste that accompanying memory to blend in you? When we are holding a book in both hands to read, in turn over a page casually, didn't you smell the Mo Xiang that when you take a book in some hour, ever smelled?

Noiseless unmanned early morning, when me a person goes at a quiet canal by oneself alone, of wind cool and refreshing with feeling dark emerge, total meeting lets me thinking a lot of a lot of things. A lot of moment those feeling are so stream-of-consciousness, this still is wanting to want the thing that do in the morning momently, below one second involves so-and-so, such-and-such content. Every time at this moment, I am gutty be like the feeling that ever was acquainted, similar setting emerges again in memory come out, faint in smelled the breath in its days. In its days, also be such early morning, wind is light, the small grass by the path still is hanging dew, what there is spy of flowers and plants to have in air is pure and fresh. I in those days am looking at this unmanned canal, ever confused recall lives life; Ever distressed placing stubborn ground to thinking next how should the route go; Ever also had waved the feeling with a few lonesome loneliness, eyeful desolate comes loose full one ground.

Be in a daze is alone person the thing that often does, the sigh is desolate person when the music of chart. Memorial breath depends on constantly however go up in these petty action, send out accidentally of purpose in you give its peculiar years to fragrance. See dim street lamp sometimes, I always can remember the back that goes via my person in year. The route that a person takes is so long, also be so close. Long is alone those who walk always is a person, did not know to sigh in the heart all the way. Close is OK calm is thinking associate with a variety of and that shining for me all the time lamp in the home, distance is mixed in my sentiment in expecting, shortened gradually. Today when the lamplight when comes loose to go up in my face, a variety of mood in year still meet those excessive swings in the heart. The route that those one person in memory takes always is some cold and cheerless, depressing feeling recollects airy up to now rise to still have some of bleak.

It year desk, the window of old times, it is the most familiar and kind reason friend in my memory. Those ligneous desk and chairs, and a few only windows are souvenir of the material in scallion years. Often sit before the window, memory resembles the arrow of one fragmented bend, rapid ground passes through desk of that book stack, waving everywhere pulverous book is sweet spatio-temporal. I can smell according to clear I and with desk touching ink marks two pieces that, overflowing sweat, still writing the taste of the desk of a few small character. Chair or it year chair, the window still is the window of old times, just sit up in days we became the person that sees a landscape. It leaves us recollect only, remember only fragrance.

Appear in me to give birth to those flowers that hit the target, it is the wind-bell before I am hanged in memorial door, when remembering, total meeting noise has euphonic swing. Those my flowers people, are you not bad? I am constant the brook along memory, in returning that flower nursery that once you have me, thinking us to breathe together, get wet in the rain together, grow together often. Dimple in that pure, in the day with bright sunshine, we had cried, had laughed, kink passes, make public passes, traitorous over- , weep to be being taken repeatedly stubborn, the corners of the mouth when remembering now the raise on total meeting. Dear flower people, time is a skunk really, I fear really to meet those who forgot you feel kind. But be at ease please, there once was a flower below the sky that I can remember me the opening of so static beauty passes.


名师翻译:

回忆有时总是那么调皮与无奈,在历经时间的过滤之后,让我看到的只有如同躲在墙后而露出的衣角。能露出了的自然是较近的,较深刻的,而那些远的,浅的,就像是裹了糖衣的夹心饼干,把一切都夹杂着,包裹着,放在记忆的末端。总以为我已把它们搁浅了,可是在不经意的清晨与日暮,我时常看见记忆的馨香,带着它特有的如故,让我刹那间闻到了彼时岁月里特有的气味。那种感觉,就像是清晨的风,忽而近又忽而远,清新而不失其真,平淡却不陌生。

有很多人的时候,孤独与静默或许会被欢笑淹没;有很多事要忙的时候,落寞和纠结会被暂时的忘却;但当一切都沉静了,忙完了,一个人安静下来的时侯,一些苍茫而熟悉的思绪就会在心里,脑里,乃至眸帘里出现。我经常有这样一些感觉,例如看见某一个相似的事物,就会不由得暇思一下,瞬间有一种旧时出现过的感觉弥漫在眼前,而后伴着我的呼吸让我闻到了它时光里的味道。总感觉每一段记忆,哪怕只是打个喷嚏,在那时那刻都会有它固有的气息。难道不是吗?我们回忆着那段和小伙伴舔棒棒糖的时光时,难道时光中棒棒糖的香甜没有伴着记忆融入你的味觉?我们捧着一本书阅读时,在不经意的翻页间,你难道没有闻到某时刻里你拿起书时曾闻到的墨香?

寂静无人的清晨,当我一个人独自行走于一条清静的小道时,风的清凉和思绪的暗涌,总会让我想着很多很多东西。很多时候那些思绪是那么的意识流,这一刻还想着早上要做的事,下一秒就涉及到某某人,某某物了。每当这时,我都有种似曾相识的感觉,类似的场景在记忆中又浮现出来,隐约里闻到了它时光中的气息。它时光里,也是这样的清晨,风淡淡的,道旁的小草还挂着露珠,空气中飘荡着花草特有的清新。那时的我望着这条无人的小道,曾迷茫地追想过人生;曾沮丧夹着倔强地想着接下来的路该怎么走;也曾飘过一些孤独寂寥的思绪,满眼落寞散满一地。

发愣是孤独者常干的事,叹气是落寞者时谱的曲。记忆的气息却时常依附在这些小动作上,在你有意无意间散发出它特有的岁月馨香。有时看到昏黄的路灯,我总会想起经年里我一个人走的背影。一个人走的路是那么长,也是那么近。长的是孤单行走的总是一个人,一路上不知在心里叹了多少气。近的是可以平静下来想着过往的种种以及家中那盏一直为我亮着的灯,路程就在我感伤和期盼中渐渐变短了。今时的灯光散在我脸上时,彼年里的种种心情依然会溢荡在心中。记忆中那些一个人走的路总是有些冷清的,空气的沉闷感至今回忆起来仍有些苍凉。

它年的桌,旧时的窗,是我记忆里最熟悉而亲切的故友。那些木质的桌椅,以及几净的窗是青葱岁月中物质纪念。每每坐在窗前,记忆就像一支离弓的箭,飞快地穿越到那个书本堆满课桌,四处飘着粉末书香的时空。我依晰会闻到我和同桌那两张沾着墨迹,漫着汗水,还写着一些小字的课桌的气味。椅还是它年的椅,窗还是旧时的窗,只是端坐于时光中的我们成了看风景的人。它留给我们的只有回忆,只有记忆的馨香。

出现在我生命中的那些花儿,是我挂在记忆门前的风铃,想起时总会响起悦耳的音律。我的那些花儿们,你们还好吗?我时常沿着记忆的溪流,回到那片曾经有你有我的花圃中,想着我们一起呼吸,一起淋雨,一起成长的往往。在那个笑靥纯真,阳光灿烂的日子里,我们哭过,笑过,纠结过,张扬过,叛逆过,连流泪都带着倔强,现在想起时嘴角总会上扬。亲爱的花儿们,时间真的是个讨厌鬼,我真地很害怕会忘了你们的摸样。但请放心,我会记得我的天空下曾经有一片花儿如此静美的开过。

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关键词: 年里,记忆,馨香,Classics,year,memory
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