有星空的夜晚不是很多，一半一半。总是这样。
前日还是大大的月圆---又亮又近，巨大无比。今日就是四下里却黑，赤手不见五指。要不是路灯、街灯、窗亮，你不知道身在何处。头上是黑色，脚下是黑暗，左右还是黑黢黢的，一点意思都没有。你在黑暗中行进---就是常常踩到空，踩到无，无有。
我躺在床上，眼睛巨额痛。碳素铅笔从手中掉落在地板上，然后滚行。
湿寒晨曦，云朵飞逝，我半醒半睡。鸟儿的啼鸣与身体的痛与伤害一并的存在于我的周围。空间与时间交替在星期日的曾经是美丽的时光。
大田上的河北的农民，在与我挥手。他们不紧不慢---或站、或蹲、或躺在田地深处。云、烟云、烟草的轻雾缭绕在他们的头顶。北京冬日的暖日头四散在大田的所有方向。
中午，饭后---车间的南墙一字排开，都在晒老阳。雷诺阿时常从我的思绪中跳出。雷诺阿不会焊接。他什么都不会。这是他自己说的。他只会从家走到画室，在拉瓦昂街口买一包烟草。日落时分原路返回。
傍晚，日落时分，我与同学、师傅们在工厂的车场排队等待班车。这是五路公共汽车的专项服务。太阳希美如画。柳絮飞花，飞扬。我开始有了青春的萌动。有位女同学投来的眼光开始有女性的柔媚、美丽述说。我没有要做的事情。就是乘车回家。然后吃饭，军队食堂的香香饭菜。画画、睡觉。之后，原路返回，再观赏大田、公骆、日落。而淮河大堤上的平淡一直跟随者我。---那些已经的经历，故事，篇章，情感，不平静的，我的，我们的---。。。
There are not many nights with starry sky, half and half. always like this.
The day before yesterday was still a big full moon---bright and close, huge. Today is all around but it is dark, with bare hands to see the five fingers. If it weren't for street lights, street lights, and windows, you wouldn't know where you were. The head is black, the feet are dark, and the left and right sides are still black, which is meaningless. You travel in the dark---that is, you often step on the void, step on nothing, nothing.
I was lying on the bed with huge pain in my eyes. The carbon pencil fell from his hand to the floor and rolled.
In the damp and cold morning, the clouds fly by, and I am half awake and half asleep. The cry of birds and the pain and injury of the body exist all around me. The alternation of space and time used to be a beautiful time on Sunday.
Farmers from Hebei in the field, waving at me. They are not hurried or slow-standing, squatting, or lying deep in the field. Clouds, smoke clouds, and a mist of tobacco hovered above their heads. The warm winter sun in Beijing was scattered in all directions in Daejeon.
At noon, after dinner---the south wall of the workshop is lined up, all in the sun. Renoir often jumps out of my thoughts. Renoir can't weld. He knows nothing. This is what he said himself. He would only walk from home to the studio and buy a pack of tobacco at the corner of Lavaang Street. Return on the same road at sunset.
In the evening, at sunset, my classmates and masters lined up in the factory's parking lot for the shuttle bus. This is a special service of No. 5 bus. The sun is beautiful and picturesque. The catkins are flying and flying. I began to have the sprouting of youth. The eyes cast by a female classmate began to describe the femininity and beauty of women. I have nothing to do. Just go home by car. Then eat, the fragrant food in the army cafeteria. Painting and sleeping. After that, return to the original road and watch Daejeon, Gongluo and sunset. The dullness on the Huaihe embankment has always followed me. ---Those past experiences, stories, chapters, emotions, restless, mine, ours---. . .
《 夏家湖 》---- 雷诺阿 A
