字體：小 中 大 |
|
|
|
| 2026/03/30 05:13:09瀏覽538｜回應1｜推薦23 | |
放緩 寒冬是必須的啊，天賜豐沛雨水，大地青綠重現。週日午後趁陽光露臉，駕車來到熟悉的小地方，山巒似波浪起伏眼前，光線穿越雲深雲淺，野外草原，遼闊而愜意的草原！行旅青青草原，總在遼闊中模糊自己的視線，總在愜意中忘卻自己的邊緣，緩緩丘陵剎那得見，天高地遠。 天高地遠，既然得見， 近郊吹吹風，趨於無限的放緩； 喜愛這陰晴不定，雲來時而驟雨，雲去轉眼光明。溫度是正午陽光的溫暖，空氣有昨夜風雨的清寒。 葡萄園的落寞，順著枯藤，爬上緩緩山坡，雲兒踱步，駐足丘陵高處，凝思今年收成，將要數著日子，眼睜睜地度過，該是醺醉的夏日。 牧場，放羊。山坡羊。興衰皆苦。 懷古的山坡羊，欣賞後還給張養浩，古今對比太沈重，不適合出遊心情。興許讀點文同的詩文，想像自己駕車在夕陽西下的鄉間小路： 「暮煙已合牛羊下，信馬林間步月歸。」 說出遊也沒出遊，只是出門繞一圈，一個小時的行程，吹吹風透透氣，聽聽牛羊的聲音。不由分說，雨後牧場的味道隨風飄散，吸入五臟六腑，比較近日的烏煙瘴氣，竟然格外清新；風景雖是舊時景，綠色原野展現光影陰晴，深淺足跡現驚奇，稍稍抒解禁足抑鬱。
Slowing Down— First written in 2020, 2023; translated into English in 2026 — Winter earns its place. Rain comes in abundance; the land returns to green. On a Sunday afternoon, the sun showed its face briefly, and I drove out to that familiar small place. The hills rolled like waves, light shifting through cloud, now deep, now thin. Open grassland—wide, and quietly easy. Moving through these green plains, ones vision softens in the vastness, the edges of the self dissolve in the ease of it. The rolling hills appear, and suddenly: sky high, earth far. Sky high, earth far.
Having seen it, no need to hurry back. A little wind at the outskirts, a slowing toward something without end; a breath of open air, the unhurried way of things. I like this unsettled weather. Rain comes with the clouds; light returns when they pass. The warmth is noon sun. The cool in the air is last nights rain. The loneliness of the vineyard creeps along the withered vines, up the slow slope. Clouds drift, pausing at the ridge, as if turning over this years harvest in their minds—counting the days, watching them pass, watching the summer that should have been full of wine slip quietly away. A pasture. Sheep. Sheep on the hillside. Rise and fall; both are sorrow. That is Zhang Yanghaos sorrow, not mine—too heavy for an afternoon drive. I return it to him. Evening mist settles as the flock comes down;
trusting the horse through the woods, home by moonlight. It was not really a journey—just a loop, an hour or so. A little wind, a little air, the sound of cattle and sheep. The smell of the pasture after rain came with the wind, uninvited, filling the lungs. Against the stale fog of recent days, it was, unexpectedly, clean. The view was the old view. But the green fields shifted with the light—deep, then pale, then deep again—and along familiar paths, faint traces of footprints offered small surprises. Enough to loosen, just a little, what the long weeks indoors had pressed down.
|
|
| ( 不分類｜不分類 ) |
