120 philosophical essays you must read in your life

Chapter 122

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 The Warmth of Return

[Chile] Neruda

My courtyard is lush with trees, deep and peaceful.Returning after a long absence, every corner of the residence attracts me to hide in and enjoy the warmth of returning after a long absence.Magical bushes grew in the garden, with a fragrance I had never known.Before leaving home, I planted a small poplar tree deep in the garden. It was so thin and inconspicuous before, but now it has grown into a big tree.It goes straight into the sky, there are wrinkles of wisdom on the skin, and the new leaves on the tip are constantly trembling.

The last thing that came into my view was the chestnut tree.As I approached, their bare, dry, towering branches took on an inscrutable and hostile air, while around their trunks sprouted the pervasive Chilean spring.I visit them every day because they require my pilgrimage.In the cold of the morning, I stood under the leafless branches and gazed.Until one day, a shy green shoot poked its head out from a distance high in the treetop to look at me, and then more green shoots came out.And so the news of my return spread through all the skeptical leaves that hid in that great chestnut tree.Now they greet me proudly and are used to my return.

The bird still stood on the branch repeating yesterday's cry, as if nothing had changed under the leaves.

The strong smell of winter and the end of winter permeated the study, and in my dwelling, the study most profoundly reflected the signs of my departure from home.

Sealed books have an odor of dead souls, straight to the nose and the depths of the soul, the smell of death--of memories that have been obliterated.

Through the ancient windows of the study, one can look directly at the white and blue sky over the top of the Andes.Behind me, I feel the fragrance of spring wrestling with the ghostly breath of these books.It is clear that books are loath to escape their long-term abandonment.Spring, in its new garments and with the scent of honeysuckle, is entering the rooms.

During my travels, the books were scattered.It is not that there is a shortage of books, but that they have been displaced.Next to a serious volume of Bacon, I saw Salgari's "Flagship of the Yucatan"; nevertheless, they got along quite amicably.And yet, when I picked up a volume of Byron's poetry, the covers fell off like the black wings of an albatross.I painstakingly sewed the spine and cover together.Of course, before doing this, I feasted on the cold romanticism again.

The most silent inhabitant of my dwelling is the conch.In the past, the conch spent years in the sea and developed a deep silence.Now, the time in recent years has added years and dust to it.Yet its cold pearly gleam, its Gothic concentric ovals, or its open petals, made that distant shore and event unforgettable to me for life.This kind of precious conch with red light is called Rosteilaria. It is the Cuban molluscist Carlos?Germany?pull?Torrey gave it to me once as a medal of the sea.Now, these black "olives" from California waters, and the red-thorn and black-pearl oysters from the same place, are a little faded and dusty.Once upon a time, we almost died off the coast of California, where there are so many treasures.

Some new residents have been added to the study, these are these pine boxes from France, the large wooden boxes that have been sealed for a long time are full of books and items.The smell of the Mediterranean on the case boards, the crunching singing when the lid is opened, and then the golden light inside the case reveals Victor?Hugo's red book cover, old editions of Les Misérables, so I housed all these heartrending lives within the walls of my house.

Besides, out of this psychic chest emerged a woman's amiable face, high wooden breasts, and hands soaked in music and salt water.I named her "Maria in Paradise" because she brought the secret of the lost ship.When I found her in a thrift shop in Paris, she was disfigured by abandonment, among a pile of discarded metal utensils, buried under filthy and gloomy piles of rags.Now, placed aloft, she once again glowed with vivacity, vividness, and radiance.Every morning, her cheeks will again be covered with mystic dew, or sailor's tears.

The roses outside the window are blooming in a hurry.I used to hate Rose because she was so proud.However, seeing them emerge naked against the severe winter.When she reveals her snow-white breasts among the tough and thorny branches, or reveals her purple fire, my heart gradually fills with tenderness, admiring their horse-like physiques, and admiring their mysterious fragrance and waves that symbolize challenges. brilliance.This is the love they show in the open air after absorbing it in the black soil, as if the sense of responsibility creates a miracle.But now, the roses are standing in every corner with a moving solemn expression, which I admire very much, because they get rid of extravagance and frivolity, and try their best to shine their own light.

However, the wind blows from all directions, forcing the flowers to undulate and tremble slightly, releasing bursts of refreshing fragrance.Memories of my youth flooded in. The beautiful names and good times that I had forgotten, the delicate hands that were gently caressed, the proud eyes of the character Lyu, and the braids that were no longer combed with the passage of time, came to my heart together, making me forget Where are you.

This is the scent of honeysuckle, this is the first kiss of spring.

【Together with you】

Life may be as plain as water, but it exudes wisps of fragrance in the plain.In a pair of eyes that are good at discovering, everything becomes vivid and warm.Rodin said that it is not the lack of beauty in life, but the lack of eyes to discover.Learn to use a keen mind to perceive the world around us, we will understand a lot and enjoy a lot. "Walk slowly, appreciate it." Mr. Lu Youqing's wise words before his death should contain such a deep meaning!Even if all my dreams come true, I will not be satisfied, then I will have new dreams, new expectations, new visions.

(End of this chapter)