西西's Castle

相信 明天 以及 未来 会是美好的

即使 现在 今天 痛苦得不堪  

 

遍体鳞伤

 

 

明天以及未来  

 

 

还是会 好好的 总有幸福与开心的时刻

 

 

因为伤痛 她们才显得格外弥足珍贵 格外短暂

 

 

所以 要 格外珍惜

 

            

 

    近些天.虽鱼有弗对的倾向,某颗小芽哗啦啦地每天在长大.而元凶就系一个世间的"尤物".我们学校传达室的某保安同志.根据他的外貌同虽鱼的执意决定,以下称其为"瓜瓜".....我本意是想叫他"地瓜"的."瓜瓜"实在是有se....Er......

   说他是尤物是一点也不错的.除了例外上帝给他较不错的身高以外,简直就是咖西莫多的原型(虽鱼作的比较...

 P.S.个就是所谓的生活像花儿一样美好的文章.纯粹因为纸上写下吃不消,先打BLOG上再抄感觉好点...大家不需要理会它的...

……日落之际,你在夕照余晖中

     渴望说出难以忘怀的事物,

     你的声音却无法重复

拨私人用鸟和玫瑰的语言的讲述.      ……                     ——博尔赫斯

    尽管那个三年可能是我们自小经历过最艰辛的岁月，但亦是我们公认的——所有生活记忆中最美好的一抹流金。

    生活仿佛就是无数朵画儿不断盛放并一同枯萎的宴会；每一朵花即每一份时光。而初仰头看见这所学校，繁茂成荫的树木和阳光交相叠错，鸟歌唱着如流水的旋律，我便晓得，我即使终老也会魂牵梦萦。

    还记得我们还在初一就被要求写“我的钱塘我的家”的征文么？结果大家不约而同地写了关于“爱在钱塘”，像大悦子写的“时间如流水般匆匆流过，一去不复返，惟有那融入心底的喜悦完好的被保存。当希望之光挥洒大地的那一刻，我们明白，那是——爱。”“在钱塘，每一朵花都面向太阳，每一棵树都蓬勃向上。在钱塘，空气中弥漫着爱，水波中荡漾着爱。”或许那时我们尚稚嫩的谚语不能够给读起它的人美的感官，但突然想到汪国真说的“有一种语言，只有我能懂，在平凡的字眼里，隐藏着伟大的爱。”

记得我们过去不羁地放手光阴，任凭那细纱不断从指缝漏走，而我们却从不会空虚或怅然;我们过去仗年少轻狂，一排人躺在操场草地上大声明朗地对天空叫喊我们的目标；季节的轮回，我们坐在教室听老师不厌其烦而细心地讲一叠又一叠的卷子；我们趴在窗沿，脑海空白地望着纯粹的天空，眼神在远方，未知的认真的执著的坚定，期待的迷惘的美好的未来；我们在操场上依着整齐的队列跑步，一次、两次、三次经过那株一到春天开满浅粉紫的碎花，又在初秋洒落一地落英的树木……

     一朵又一朵美好的花而盛开，舒展开她柔和、色泽丰润的花瓣，张开枝上的绿叶，吸纳着无私奉献出的阳光。

     每次看着我们整个年级——首届毕业声的合影照总是会无比贪婪地不满，不满足这样灿烂、刻骨铭心的却只是一个定格的掠影，恨不能带着DV机从初一开始完整地记录下这阳光普照下的每一天。但我确不能，我所能做的只是把这些深深地烙印在心的记忆中，时常把它拿出来似电影重放一遍，为防止遗落下任何一个细节。

    这是欢笑与泪水交织而成的琼浆浇灌着生活的这朵花儿，似玫瑰一样热血而激情，又似百合一样馨香而怡人。

     记得那天,中考的前一天,学校里,大家怀揣着忐忑的希冀,彼此的眼神,心照不宣,简单的一句”战场见!””XX高中见拉!””上帝与你我同在!”……然后颇具临战气势的拍下肩,便提起所有的书决绝的走出教室,那样的气氛却渗透着忧愁的别绪,预见我们挥手告别,终究曲终人散,惦念起初次遇见在校园,明媚的太阳,明澈的天空下,我们,就这样结识,却眼见离别.

偶尔会觉得生活是不可逆而单向的，我们来到这世上的第一声哭喊就是对人生苦难的预兆，觉得坎坷和磨难就像是行走的路上的石头，仿佛人生就是由坎坷组成，而美好不过是荆棘丛中点缀的几朵零星野花。

    其实这些认知怕都是依个人的心情和切入的角度而定，坎坷自是不可避免的十有八九的人生不如意之事，而美好亦是生活的元素之一，倘若看到的尽是生活的磨难，只能说，你开错了窗子，打开另一扇心窗，景色会是截然不同的繁华似锦。

     每一段生活的往事回忆,当我们蓦然回首, 无论欢喜或悲伤,无论聚合或离别,无论成功或失败,只会释然一笑,一切的过往云烟都会是人生中无可取代的经历,而成为我们的历史.就像是自己一手种植耕耘的花园,到花开时分,你只会不分花朵大小.色泽.饱满程度地喜爱它们,

     常常觉得那些我生命中路过并停驻的他们,和那些像花朵一样美好的回忆就是我最大的宝藏.想用一辈子去守护的宝藏.

手拉手,一起奔跑于落英缤纷,拥抱我们的年华,穿越生活的花海,一路上,芳香依旧.

 

 

  

 

                                        The Flower-School

   When storm clouds ramble in the sky and June showers come down. The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its bagpipes among the bamboos.

    Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden , from nobody knows where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee.

    Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground. They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand in a corner. When the rains come they have thier holidays.

    Branches clash together in the forest, and the leaves rustle in the wild wind, the thunder-clouds clap their giant hands ande the flower children rush out in dresses of pink and yellow and white.

    Do you know, mother, their home is in the sky, where the stars are.

    Haven't you seen how eager they are to get there?

    Don't you know why they are in such a hurry?

    Of course, I can guess to whom they raise their arms: they have their mother as I have my own.

                                                                      ————Rabindranath Tagore

                                      

                                                              Baby's way

       If only baby wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.

     It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.

     He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom,and cannot ever bear to lose sight of her.

     Baby knows all manner of wise words, though few on earth can understand their meaning.

     It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak. The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words form mother's lips. That is why he looks so innocent.

     Baby had aheap of gold and pearls,yet he came like a begger onto this earth.

     It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.

     This dear little naked mendicand pretends to be utterly helpless, so  that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.

     Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon.

    It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.

     He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little corner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught and pressed in her deer arms.

     Baby never knew how to cry.

    He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss.

    It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears. Though with the smile of his deer face to be draws mother's yearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troubles weave the double bond of pity and love...

                                                                                      ————Rabindranath Tagore