The Complete Works of Xu Zhimo's Classical Prose

Chapter 7 Catching Duckweed on the Edge of Autumn Dream (6)
Moscow was not completely destroyed back then; not only the imperial city is still there, but also the churches from 400 years ago are still there.Although there are many new houses, this city is old.When I think of Moscow at this moment, my imagination conjures up an old retired soldier. The violence of the battle has faded in his age, but the relics of the violence are still there, the knife wound on his cheek, the wound on his neck The gun scars on his side, his empty gaze, and his strong mustache all indicate his past life; his clothes are also untidy.But the broken clothing seems to be a part of his personality, like the moss on the rock, the mottled color has stained the rock itself.In this old city of Moscow, it is not easy to see that the news of new life may only be the newly built White House, with bright red flags flying on the roof, shining brightly in the ocher-yellow, old city of Kremlin. You pay attention and doubt, doubt that this new color boldly invades the center of the historic site and disturbs the original harmony.This is no accident, travelers!Quickly wipe your tired eyes, and take a closer look, maybe under the seemingly peaceful old city, there are explosive fires, pay attention!Turning around, the earth's crust is rotten into powder, let's talk about the civilization on the ground!

In fact, when the bombing comes, no one can hide, unless you take your treasures and escape to Mars as soon as possible, but whether Mars itself explodes or not is still a problem.In a few minutes, the medicine thread probably won't reach the root yet, so let's come early, not escape, but come early to see more of this never-ending ground.That morning I looked at Moscow for the first time alone on the platform of the Great Church Temple. The feet were covered with slippery and frozen snow. It was really difficult to walk. I flashed once or twice, but God is praised. Looking forward to the blessing, if it weren't for the terrible slippery stone platform, I would have jumped up in surprise!I never knew the direction. I only guessed that the Moskva River flows from east to west, but there was no sun in the morning, so I couldn't even distinguish things. It's a pity that I didn't go out on the bird mountain. I was like Napoleon when I looked back. Moscow, which is shrouded in freezing snow, must have a certain style, but what I saw that day was not bad, so I will keep Queshan and go there next time, maybe there is still time.Friends in Beijing, you should also go to Jingshan or Beihai as early as possible to see our unique "Huangwa Lianyun" Forbidden City. This sentence really makes sense. Looking back, Beijing has become the second Old Summer Palace. If you are soft-hearted and then go to Jiaomin Lane to visit the colored photos, you can’t say it with a frown, you deserve it!
Just as Beijing's decency is entirely dependent on the emperor, Moscow's decency is largely dependent on God.Have you ever seen Greek church buildings?In China, I am afraid that only Harbin has it.The characteristic of that building is a large gourd roof in the middle, some colored, mostly blue, but most of them are golden, and there are four small gourd roofs on the four corners, the ratio of size is very inconsistent, some are too small, some are too small. The one in the middle is no different.Some have complicated flower decorations, influenced by Eastern Roman architecture, but there are also pure white stone ones, with a huge golden dome on top, such as the cathedral, which has a kind of simple grandeur.But the most ingenious thing is the famous old church outside the imperial city, which was completed in the sixteenth century; It is the place where the Russian royal family worships, so the place for offering and praying there is also cramped; there are ten roofs in total, and I have never seen the order of arrangement clearly, and the styles and colors of each are different: some are like the ten-lens melons in the south of us. Some are like the copper hammer held by Yan Chengfang in Yue Zhuan, some are like a jackfruit standing there, some are like a circle of fire snakes with a bald head poking out of it, and some are like the second brother Shan in the Sui and Tang Dynasties. The weapon, what is it called Zaofang lance?In short, not only have I never seen that bunch of grotesque colors, that bunch of bizarre shapes, I have never even seen in my dreams that anyone who wants to get jackfruits and jujubes will run to the top of the chapel!
Moscow is like a honeycomb, and churches of various sizes are its hives; there are more than 600 churches in the whole city (some say [-]). You can’t believe it, but there is at least one ice cream and Sada shop on a street corner in New York City, Moscow The Bing Qilin Shada shop is like a church, some are really impressive, showing off in mid-air with real gold roofs, some are really shabby, with one or two small houses and a rotten taro-like spire, squeezed between two walls on several floors In the middle of the room, I couldn't breathe.It is said that religion in Russia has suffered greatly since the Revolution.In the past few years, not only have new ones been unable to be made, but old ones have also been unable to be repaired. As a priest in the top church, the paramita spoke vaguely to us, with a very miserable expression on his face.The Chinese seem to be puzzled by this situation. Religion will be so marketable, as if praying is more vigorous than eating, and worshiping is more important than making bread; go to our Shaoxing to see "five houses and three hotels, ten steps and nine latrines", There are also temples, at the top of the city, on the top of the mountain, how close it is to see you later in the first half of the first month, and how worthy life is, the difference between East and West's outlook on life is too far!
Going back to that morning, when I visited Moscow for the first time, the never-frozen Moskva River was covered with snow, and lay across my feet like a jade belt. There were many crows looking for food on the river.Moscow crows have gray backs, and their beaks and necks are not as poor as usual. At first glance, I thought they were turtledoves!The imperial city is on my left, silently surrounded by many majestic projects, on the tower-shaped watchtower at the corner, there are faint shadows of heavily wrapped guards patrolling. It is old, like dark ocher fire bricks, as if to tell you, "We are not afraid of time, let alone personnel changes. Napoleon has gone long ago, the Romanov family is finished, Kerensky is gone, Lenin is dead, A layer of blood is added to the flow of time, and a layer of oldness is added to my wall. I am not afraid of getting old. How many times will you humans shed blood again?" My right hand is the big golden-roofed temple Looking across the river, it looks like a lotus pond in full bloom. The top of the gourd is a lotus flower, high-stemmed, low-stemmed, rich, plain, grand, and luxuriant. It's a pity that the sun refuses to come out, otherwise the The golden lotus in the pond is even brighter and more brilliant, and the Queen Mother of the West will be envious when she sees it!
May 26 in Ferenchui Mountain
[-]. Chekhov's Cemetery

Poets have to feel lonely in this noisy city street; therefore, "sad time" is their venting of grievances, and "diaogu" is their sustenance of tenderness.But "Injury Time" is a direct reaction of emotion: Zigui's clear cry can easily turn into Ye's urgent tune, while Diaogu is a natural expression of emotion, imagining the past time and comforting the loneliness of the soul.Among the tombs, in the evening wind, on the side of the mountain, at the corner of the water, admiring the ancient human feelings, nostalgic brilliance; like the white clouds coming out of Xiu, lightly stained with the color of the setting sun, rolling slowly, gracefully, the wind When it moves, the wind stops when it moves.

You have to realize the reality of time when you hang out in ancient times; imagine it as a turbulent lake, imagine it as a slow flowing water, imagine it as an upside-down torrent, imagine it as a tail without a trace, as long as you see its splash You will know its relentless ruthlessness and its unlimited greed for destruction: the mulberry field becomes the sea, the pink powder becomes a withered skeleton, the green stem becomes dry wood, and the empire becomes a dream.Dreams turn into smoke, fire into ashes, stone into sand, roses into mud, all disputes are absorbed in the silent tomb... At that time, the coming and going of people, its hue and ripples, are like the evening mist at sunset The mountains and ridges in the sky melted into blue and purple, and it was no longer clear whether it was Qiu or ravine, forest or valley.But its general outline is carved gracefully on the horizon, giving you the clearest identification.This identification arouses the question: what is life?You have to add your commentary, you have to express your "view".Tao Yuanming said that everyone is floating in this water, and one day they will be submerged in it. Let me take advantage of the beautiful scenery of Nanshan today to plant a chrysanthemum and drink a cup of sweet wine; Li Taibai, Su Dongpo, and Lu Fangweng all responded that it is good, we My "view" is in this wine glass.Nineteen ancient poems say that this life is easy to pass, but you have to live it. Those who want to live forever are fools. It is true to seize the present and try to enjoy the blessings and seek happiness as much as possible. Luoyang, which is on fire, can’t help being emotional. He is also desperate for the insignificant life and turns away from his roots, fluttering with the long wind. Poor; the mystery of the "long time" alerted Chen Yuanlong: People are all alone in the world without a companion, and each, when he awakens, is a lonely soul; Zhuangzi has nothing to do with this long time. Withered skulls, imagine another universe where the progress of life is no longer limited by time.

Therefore, it is a hobby of Chinese literati to hang on to ancient times, especially visiting graves.This habit seems to be hereditary; because as far as I am concerned, not only do I like to go to cemeteries in desolate suburban places for entertainment, but the image of the tomb seems to hang behind every thought of me. A piece of loess has infinite interest to me, not to mention the incidentals of beard, cool breeze, poplar, green phosphorus and so on.Of course, the image of the tomb and the concept of death cannot be far apart, but the relationship between my tomb and death is not close: death seems to have an attachment or a phenomenon with substance, and the tomb is just a beautiful nothingness, in this static In the artistic conception, time seems to stop the fluctuations, and your own thoughts and feelings have also subsided. At that time, your soul can feel the purest comfort, and you don't want anything else.There is another reason why I don't like to think about death. It is because the object of death is the most annoying life. Death stop is to stop life, not to solve life, let alone eliminate life. To stop is to increase the complexity of life and not to clean it up. disputes.The image of the tomb does not imply any relative or proportional entity, it has no distant relatives or close neighbors, it is just it, a beautiful nothingness that contains everything, covers everything, and blends everything.

It seems that I came to Europe this time only for Qingming; I not only went to famous graves or graves related to me [Chekhov’s and Kropotkin’s graves in Moscow, my own son’s in Berlin) In Fontainebleau, Manjufer's; in Paris, La Traviata and Haenet; in Puteret's "Flowers of Evil"; in Vertaire, Rousseau, and Lou ; In Rome, go to the graves of Shelley and Keats; in Emerald, go to the graves of Mrs. Browning; go to the graves of Michelangelo and Medici; I went to Assisi to visit the tomb of Francis, and to Mantua to visit the tomb of Virgil. Every time I pass by unknown cemeteries, I often go in and linger. At that time, my emotions may be sadness or emotion. I linger among the tombstones, waiting for the setting sun to fade before going home.

Go back to Moscow, don't covet Lenin, that is nothing more than a living dead man advertising (sinful mouth!), but forget that a really good place to go is the one under the top of the Sparrow Mountain The famous cemetery was originally the place where the nobles were buried, but the three generations of Chekhov and Kropotkin were also in it. I spent three days in Moscow and lived an extremely dull life, but that one Xiangwan was silent there. In the lonely monastery, the mortal world of Moscow is gone, and the horror dreams of the Jews are gone. I calmly nostalgia, ponder silently. There may be greater happiness in others, but I am satisfied.The name of the nunnery seems to be Monestiere Vinozositoh (can be translated as Shengzhen nunnery), but I dare not say it is correct, but it is easy to ask.

The cemetery I can't forget the most is the place where monks and nuns are buried on Kobe Mountain in Japan and China. First, because it is built on the mountain, and the trees and flowers are natural. Second, because of the spring on the south side, there is an endless sound of water. High-pitched, I can see the sea waves and the mountains and islands on the other side. What I dislike the most is the cemetery in Montmartre, Paris. Even though there is a neighbor of La Traviata, I still don’t want it, because it is surrounded by city streets, and there is a tram in the sky. The big bridge, the meaning of Qingning caused those wheels to be crushed into pieces, I was determined not to go; the cemeteries of Shelley and Keats in Rome are also good, but I will save that for later; the St. Zhen'an is worthy of praise, but it seems that there are not many opportunities to lie there!
The Shengzhen nunnery itself is made of white stone, the gourd top is gold, and there is a beautiful bell tower beside it, which is red, square, and unusually bright. Looking from a distance, the three-color configuration of white, gold, and red is very interesting; the tombstone The tombs and pavilions are densely scattered under the shadow of the tower. The day I went there was in the evening, and half of the snow on the ground had melted into water. You couldn’t walk without wearing rubber overshoes; It was the Sparrow Hill that Napoleon looked back at when he was retreating. The atmosphere inside the nunnery was different. In the shade of evergreen trees and in the snow-paved ground, there were various tombstones quietly holding their breath: the bluestone platform, the carved statue Changjie; towers inlaid with gold, hollow pavilions, high ones, low ones, complicated carvings, and plain ones: but the meaning they express is only a very simple one. There are old dead people, who will go to twilight when they are gone, and sleep in the underworld, and they will never die for thousands of years."

Not long after we walked forward, we discovered a rather shocking fact: many extremely solemn steles fell to the ground, and several solid stone and iron railings were destroyed; In recent years, Feng Shui has turned, the nobles are the most difficult, fortunately they are not ruined, and they will inevitably die. The grievances of the class have left traces in this cemetery. It is still unknown whether there is a sacrificial sweep or no sacrificial sweep, whether it has anything to do with the pain of the dead below: but for the living who are full of vanity, this kind of demonstration method is a warning.

We groped for a long time, but never found Chekhov; my friend went over there to ask, and I stood and waited at a corner. Over here, the golden dome and the red pagoda are shining together, forming an unbelievable brilliance; you have never seen the big golden dome, it is difficult to imagine the power of its reflection, the reflection on the ordinary glass window is enough for your dazzling, not to mention such a big pure The golden dome, I can't help but thank the architect for his insight. I saw the golden light and divine glow that I longed for after watching "Journey to the West" and "Feng Shen Zhuan", and I see you here!What's more, the tall and straight crimson tower also turned into a swaying rainbow in an instant, as if it had left the ground and flew away into the air.

On Chekhov's tomb (his father is beside him) is just a porcelain-blue stele, engraved with his name and the years of his life and death, surrounded by iron fences, and inside the fence there are a few petals of small green leaves in the half-melted snow , which fell from the nearby tree, turned slightly there.

I leaned against the iron railing alone, pondering if Chekhov would be here today; he doesn’t know what to do; he is the gentleman who loves “humor” the most, and he is also the funniest gentleman.His wife told us that when he was dying, she would tell him jokes. People with humor are not easy to be emotional slaves.But if he saw the situation in Russia today, the situation in the world today, would he still be able to laugh, would he be able to continue writing his flexible novels with his flexible pen? ... As I was thinking, a strange sound came from the corner of the garden and interrupted my calculations. I am used to hearing that sound in China, but I don’t pay attention to it in Europe; when I turned to look, there was a sound A lady in black stands in front of a grave, and next to her a priest in strange clothes (like our wandering monk) is chanting mantras loudly. When reunited in the evening, between the dark tomb doors, listening to the strange You know that strange tune is for the people in the tomb, and this thought will play a role in the hair, as if a large group of people from below have all climbed up and surrounded you Standing and listening, at the same time the bell struck.The door of the nunnery over there was opened, and an oil lamp was shining in front of the door. The nuns came out in a row and walked to another room. All in black clothes and pockets, they walked quietly in the snow...

Kropotkin's grave is in the back garden. There is only a flat white stone, which indicates the resting place of this great soul. It looks rather desolate.The doorbell has already rang, and we have to go back to the world of mortals.

13. blood
Remembrance of Lenin's Body

There is probably no one who has ever been to Moscow who does not pay admiration to Lenin's "King Kong Immortality" body.We stood in the snow and ice for more than half an hour that day (I'm really sorry for Mrs. Tu in the embassy, ​​she soaked our shoes and socks to guide us), and then we had a chance to go to the ground.

On the north wall of the entrance door, there is a cork made of flattened earth model; from the North Pole to the South Pole, from the East Pole to the West Pole (let’s say that), the whole body is blood-colored, next to it is a blood-stained sickle, and a blood-stained sickle hammer.Such a bold and unprecedented prophecy would have made Moses lose face when he saw it, not to mention we can't help being frightened by mortal bones.

(End of this chapter)