篇一：优秀抒情散文
一纸红尘，半世明媚
2013-11-24 15:17 作者:花谢无语1013人读过 | 10条评论 相关文章 | 我要投稿
人生，诸多精彩，在记忆里回放，又一一闪过，我只站成一树独有的风景，但求微波不兴，荣辱不惊。
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当我再一次用键盘敲打出一行字，那些字，就在我的指间开出一朵朵花。就好似萦绕心头，再也抛不开的那抹牵念。即便，是以无关风月的文字形式出现，也是或深或浅的想起。当繁华落尽，凝神，伫足，梳理那些素笔勾勒过的痕迹，用眷眷柔情，反反复复的默数，时光微恙，喜悦，终是多过忧伤。
那个灵魂深处给予温暖的人，已然是篆刻进心里的字，于各种情绪重叠之时，念起，一半欢颜，一半眷恋，是岁月无与伦比的馈赠。情，不论深浅，醉，便是这一眼的缘，萍水相逢也可用一生去书写。就如一只蝶，极尽风韵的舞蹈，不奢求，会在一朵花间皈依，只张扬美丽，舞出一程入骨相思。
那朵花儿，就依着光阴生长，风起时，摇曳出淡淡的香，将心事静静释放，是一抹清浅的芳菲。有云朵，化作蝶，幻做叶，在青天悠然的起舞，极近的婀娜，也只是跟随风的足迹，天涯海角，落满了心的期许。人生的种种际遇，忧伤和喜悦，如桃花流水，空谷清音，并不值得炫耀。
都只若是萍水相逢，是岁月深巷中一抹禅意的时光，无需倾城，但求倾心。光阴缓步而行，只将寒凉与温暖，轻握在手，用心体会就好。乐而不极，逆不生悲，是悠然入世，淡然迎对的美丽。( 散文网：www.sanwen.net )
在人生漫长的旅途中，我们常常会感叹时光流逝的速度。就如同一阵风吹过，一颗沙尘迷了眼，揉过了，再睁开，也许眼前就已经变换了人间。所有的际遇，不过是一场水面行船，舟行过处，泛起的涟漪，不断地扩散、扩散、再扩散。一圈一圈地荡漾开去，直至最后消失，一切光亮收敛，遁入黑夜，微波不起，恍若是黎明前夕的平静。
也许，一灯如豆之时，会突然的想起一些人，一段记忆，那曾于月下挽起的清风，于花前邀约的微雨，也不过是心里渐生的清愁，最后，化作一声叹息。多繁华的往昔，那山一程，水一程的距离，我们，终究是回不去了。
季节的转角处，秋情已片片晕开，如一只蝴蝶飞入沉睡的花蕾中，是不小心的惊醒。于是，有水一般细密的柔软，不经意间流淌进心怀，羽化了杂乱无章的心情。那些，在季节之上悬挂的忧伤，被岁月磨折尽了棱角，风干之后，又再一次圆润的生长。只是这一次，是用恒久的等待长成了一棵相思木，隔着远空，也要竭尽的摇落整个世界的欣喜。
雨，夜半而落，淅淅沥沥，仿佛是岁月长长的线，一端系着等待，另一端系着牵念。翻阅信笺，看昨夜随雨而至的留言，短短的三四行字，无一不是倾尽了爱恋。不语浅笑，心
思，婉转在落花的窗台，看着依窗轻轻滑动的雨滴，湿润的空气，好像弥散着松香的味道，恬静而安暖。
极目远空，遥望，是一团浓郁的雾色，有着岁月沉淀后的灰白。思绪掠过，千万里云端，在所有的清亮之上，看到一抹笑容荡漾。心，微微一动，和着雨声的滴答，指尖抚过微凉的纸张，随手写下这沁满清宁的文字，一种叫做幸福的感觉，便开始，在心底滋长。
时光，总是深浅错落，如写在纸上的字，每一个句点都是岁月长河里的星子，或影射弯折，或浩瀚广阔，那是一个无法衡量的尺度。不刻意，不执意，就顺着心意，依着光阴，从容着悲喜，如此就好，无需读懂。
用遥远的牵念，凝望季节的深处，一枚粉饰的馨香，依旧在枝头摇曳，思绪悠悠。回眸，浅笑，触摸岁月的温情，点点滴滴，都是心的律动，用拈花之素念，于指间晕开暖意融融。目光向远，掠过深冬梅花开处，漫过春日山花开处，走过盛夏繁花开处，看一程岁月，途径四季斑斓成梦，生命，巍然而立又是一秋。
流年恰似眼中泪，一点一滴总关情 2013-11-27 15:56 作者:花谢无语4460人读过 | 14条评论 相关文章 | 我要投稿
我来，穿过千年守望的风月，手捧一百零八颗舍利子，用如水的心思做弦，串成沾满岁月尘香的念珠，赴一场花草满径的相约。你可知，那随风起舞的绵柔曲线，就是前生一朵花于烟火中瘦尽，只将精魂幻化成颗颗圆润的相思骨，刻满了轮回的救赎。
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一直想做一个简单而安静的女子，闲来品茶，写字，梳理心情，打扫尘埃，只恐心事积怨太久，会郁郁成愁。字写好了，用微笑装裱成画，悬于心墙之上，日日守，夜夜访，直到相思渐生，想念，又发新芽。流年，如一盘散沙，即便所有心思用尽，也拉不近那一重一重的天涯，只得将清影藏于月光下，听一首老歌，反复到连思绪都沙哑。
或许，可以将脚步走得清浅些，再清浅些，刻意绕过那半程烟沙，就如同墙角的紫藤花，总于夜半开的无声无息，谁人敢评说，那不是清喜。可否，也学紫藤花，守一处光阴禅意的栖居，让心灵可以沾满了浮生的醉意，掬一抹微笑兀自的开，兀自的落，而后，只伴着时光安静的老去。
从不曾埋怨，时光在眼中渐次搁浅，纵使千帆过尽，你的记忆仍在心里，翻卷出一幅画面，影射流年。往事，已如烟。曾有水墨青花般的句点，纷飞在指间，回眸，也只是刹那芳华的流转。只一个转身，思念，就定格永远。问青天，借慧眼，将万千纷扰看穿，情来情去，且让情随缘，得一念安然，无需感叹。
错过，皆因情深缘浅，若微笑，心无苦寒，若向暖，亦可明媚生烟，若无悲无怨便可换得朗朗晴天。红尘有爱，心存感念，笑看风月，淡则坦然。用心的脚步，穿行于风尘俗世，过往的繁华与疏离，都可淡淡随风。我所在意的，不过是这清浅于指间的一抹葱茏，只随着心情，便可轻吟出一段平仄的流年。每每在轻舞霓裳处，倾听来自灵魂的呼唤，心里轻触的时光，总会油然而生，荡漾成温软的微笑。( 散文网：www.sanwen.net )
纵使光阴模糊了容颜，却也是仅用一笔倾心，就典藏了生命里最至真的厚重。风起的日子，我静卧晨曦的光中，静静守望，默默聆听，用水润的心剪出一段过往，盈一抹淡然，笑看青山绿黛暖融，远雨微凉。又把思念落笔成行，和着深深的感悟凝结成笑语，轻拥流年沧桑。
喜欢静享晨起的这段时光，平复所有的杂乱，转换成一种安逸的语言。无非，是为寻一个明媚的出口，以解万事烦忧。可是区区蝇头小字，只言片语，又怎可压制住万顷波澜的汹涌。所以也学友人，闲来读韵，默颂千风，只是落笔，仍旧花团锦簇，沾满了流年的浮尘。
篇二：2015人生如梦(散文欣赏)
人生天地间，时光匆匆若白驹过隙，悠悠数十年，弹指一挥间。生活在这虚幻与现实的边缘，过去与现代的疆界，总会萌发出太多的感慨，深深的记忆镌刻得潮起潮落，澎湃时更若崔古拉朽的大潮汐般荡涤着一切尘垢和铅华，使一切再度回归于本真，在平静中奋发，在奋发中平静，最终落幕成为一段经历、一个过程、一章文字、一份答卷。打开尘封的宗卷，轻揽依稀的记忆，回味过往的点点滴滴，或微笑、或皱眉、或纠结、或失落、或温婉、或缠绵。这些人生的和弦在不经意间相互交织演绎，于叮叮咚咚中恰如大潮汐时迸发的万种声响、万般形状，组合成一曲亘古不息的交响，弹拨人生高低琴弦，或如高山流水般一泻千里，或如涓涓小溪般源远流长。尚未写尽的历史的一页，如苏轼的幸与不幸，李白的遇与不遇，杜甫的叹与不叹，李清照的悲与不悲，历经世事的沧桑和岁月的沉积，在千百年后的今天唯有任人评说。
当战火的硝烟在历史长河中弥漫，演绎成悲壮激越的旋律，目睹一个王朝覆盖另一个王朝的斑斑遗迹，胜者为王败者为寇的不堪回首，在胜利的荣耀取代失败的落魄之时，陈旧的楼宇和荒芜的废墟终究只能彰显破败的过去。随着历史的发展，人类文明的进步，新的技术取代了钻木取火，先进科技文化取代了刀耕火种，造纸术的发明替代了甲骨竹简，活字印刷淘汰了刻版印刷，火药的发明加剧了战争的杀伤力……所有这些都在告诫人们，只有放弃堆积如山的过去，跟着时代的脉搏，在无尽的奔走中，总结人生的真谛，才能宽慰那颗历经长途跋涉而近乎疲惫崩溃的心。不再思忖过往风尘，不再为昨日所累，收拾心情、装点今朝、换身轻装、从容迈步。亦如朝阳初升，不纠结黑夜的漫长；亦如晨星闪
烁，不挽留昨夜的呓语；亦如晨露晶莹，不悲观瞬间的精彩；亦如晚红尽然，不留恋瞬间的万种风情。不惜露宿山顶，不悲寄身檐下，让那古老传统和千年风骨融在每个炎黄子孙的血脉中，让它在各个时期萌芽植根、蓬勃茁壮。行走在红尘阡陌中，时常感叹日新月异的高楼如何平地拔起？宇宙星辰如何不再遥不可及？涉足历史长河，寻觅远古的踪迹，悄然发现，在岁月流逝中总会有坚如磐石的遗迹成为历史的见证，他们的昨日不曾离去，今后也将永远不会离去。追昔抚今，每个感动瞬间，最终会留下难以觉察的深深痕迹，即使斑斑伤痕，也会在漫长的时空里最终愈合。那丝深蕴于心的伤痛或幸福最终会蛰伏在心底，恍若灾难过后，无数家庭中永远缺席的位臵，成为永远的伤痛，再也不想回忆。呵呵呵，扯远了！任思绪信马由缰地驰骋一番，似乎和主题无关了。
人生之路如潮汐般起起落落，也恰如人生经历了一个个风雨洗礼，见证着一步步奋斗的历程。当呼啸的潮汐来侵时，便如奋斗中的艰辛过程，而此时的心灵海岸，却经受着浊浪的拍击、考验，甚至被疯狂的海水侵蚀的斑驳流离、失魂落魄，更时时潜藏着被巨浪吞噬到海底的悲催，成为永远宁静的沉积。待一番惊心动魄之后，潮汐也将渐渐地退去，海岸重新归于平静。此时的海岸，别有一番风景呈现，那些鲜亮的贝壳，闪烁着洗礼后的晶莹，倾述海水的无尽秘密，展现经历起落的收获，就如同接受生活的馈赠，却又似什么也没发生过一般坦然，那被海水刻画的痕迹便会成为挥之不去的记忆，在雕琢中逐渐精致丰满，演化为最美最靓的风景。
打开史册，寻觅故人。遥想当年，高瞻远瞩震惊华夏的千古一帝秦始皇，荡平六国，铲除诸侯割据，统一华夏建立
大秦，其业煌煌、其功灼灼，也难逃英年早逝的厄运；叱咤风云书写青史的曹操，早已化为一缕清魂潜藏在人们的想象与记忆中；开旷古先河，书大唐盛世的唐太宗李世民，也未能摆脱晚年昏庸的悲催和无奈；巾帼骄子女中丈夫的一代女皇武则天，识人才、建周业、重女官、创新意，在历经辉煌后，暮年依旧恢复大唐帝号；弯弓射大雕、驰骋亚欧大陆的成吉思汗，荡平草原，直指欧洲，也未能目睹元朝的崛起与兴衰；横扫欧洲，志与阿尔卑斯山脉齐高的拿破仑，最终沉睡在巴黎荣军院……秦皇汉武、凯撒、亚历山大，所有的伟业都如潮汐般澎湃汹涌后，又归为暴风骤雨后的平静。暗淡的刀光剑影，远去的鼓角争鸣，在风云叱咤的那一刻，又何尝不是惊天动地的壮举呢？不能因为俱往矣，不争朝夕，也不因为俱往矣，放纵懒惰。其实俺总认为，不管故人的业绩如何辉煌，此时此刻，后退一千步来讲，人生的每一个阶段，该做啥就做啥。不在庸庸叹息中浪费年华，不在好高骛远中崩溃生命，不在鞭长莫及中憔悴陨落，不在后悔嗟叹中蹉跎岁月，不在妄自菲薄中迷失自我，不在唯我独尊中目空一切……最终脚踏实地，感动生命的每一个潮涨潮落，感动生命中的真情自我，唯此足矣！
牛顿建立经典力学体系，成为工业革命的理论基石，麦克斯韦的电磁学理论为信息时代的到来构建了坚实基础，毕达哥拉斯、笛卡尔、沈括、徐光启……他们的成就历经岁月风尘的剥蚀依旧历久弥新。是人生潮汐的馈赠，是经历无数次实验的结果，是对善对美的执着追求，是在演绎的文字里对人生反复解读，唯有在生命与生命火化撞击的那一刻，才能完成生命的对接和延续。
人生如潮汐，国家也亦然，居安思危、高瞻远瞩，方能百战不殆。法国公认的战争之神拿破仑曾预言：中国是一头沉睡的雄狮，醒来将震撼世界。而今，预言已经变成现实，中国经历狂风骤雨的洗礼后，于痛定思痛中，埋葬了被奴役、被歧视的痛彻骨髓的耻辱历史，改变了一穷二白的面貌，以崭新骄人的雄姿，矗立于世界民族之林。面对突发事件和飞天横祸，已不再惊慌失措、束手无策。觉醒了的中国人，在汶川玉树大灾难面前，彰显大爱无边，倍显人间温暖。恶性食品，安全隐患，转基因的阴谋秘密……在潮汐的冲刷下逐渐隐退。未婚妈妈张菲三十年收养弃婴，奉献了青春奉献了爱情，在潮汐澎湃后，奉献人间真爱奇葩。和平时期的潜规则，使中国的基础更加坚韧，众人划将开大船的精诚团结，中国才会直挂云帆济沧海，在苍茫浩瀚的世界蔚蓝的大海中领航奋进！
人生的青春岁月，遥远成一道缱绻的背景，于似梦非梦的朦胧中依旧清晰可见，更如昨天的茶靡，牵衣蔷薇，恍如水墨丹青，书写不尽的诗篇在潮汐的风靡里渐行渐远，留给岁月无尽的遐想和悠远的回忆。在逐渐苍老的年轮里，渐渐沉淀为心灵深处的一抹绯红，荒漠深处的一丛莹绿，浩淼苍穹的一抹蔚蓝，峰峦叠嶂的一抹黛青。所有这些，都在我们不经意间的翻来覆去中去品味、去推敲、去假想、去陶醉。从中挖掘出无尽温婉缠绵，含英咀华，总有一丝丝层出不尽的借鉴和希望，犹如潮汐中美丽铮亮的贝壳，河蚌中含蕴晶莹的珍珠，沧海中劈波斩浪的云帆，蓝天下振翅翱翔的苍鹰。
人生如潮汐，无论浪潮如何汹涌，都有潮起潮落的激情和无奈。就如马甲代替了旗袍，商品的喧嚣代替了桃花源的
怡然自乐，闪婚，闪离的骚动，代替了百年修得同船渡，千年修得共枕眠的珍惜。就算时尚代替了千年文化，依旧脱离不开：王国大厦拔地而起，始于黄土大地；帝国雄鹰凭虚驭空，终栖于独木寒枝。
相信茶越沉越醇，便不会人走茶凉；相信酒越存越香，便不会酒醉人伤。唯有坦然面对潮汐，在潮汐中得到历练和重生，才会有丰富多彩的奇葩润泽生命，绽放绚丽多姿的风采。人生如潮汐，潮汐如人生，就让这亘古不息的大潮汐起落自如平仄生命，演绎生命的芳华和精彩瞬间！
篇三：散文佳作108篇
第一部分 汉译英
1. 丑石(An Ugly Stone)
2. 匆匆(Rush)
3. 冬夜(Winter Night)
4. 互助(Helping Each Other)
5. 黄昏(Dusk)
6. 盼头(Something to Lookl Forward to)
7. 媲美(Beauty)
8. 枪口(The Muzzles)
9. 鸲鹆(The Story of a Myna)
10. 铜镜(The Bronze Mirror)
11. 学校(The College)
12. 野草(Wild Grass)
13. 种梨(Planting a Pear Tree)
14. 哀互生(Mourning for Husheng)
15. 落花生(The Peanut)
16. 盲演员(A Blind Actor)
17. “孺子马” (An”Obedient Horse”)
18. 小麻雀(A Little Sparrow)
19. 雄辩症(A Case of Eloquence)
20. 大钱饺子(A Good-luck Dumpling)
21. 荷塘月色(Moonlight over the Lotus Pond)
22. 黄龙奇观(A View of Huangllong)
23. 枯叶蝴蝶(Lappet Butterfies)
24. 泡菜坛子(A pickle Pot)
25. 田水哗啦(The Irrigation Water Came Gurgling)
26. 我若为王(If I Be King)
27. 西式幽默(Western Humour)
28. 项脊轩志(Xiangjixuan)
29. 夜间来客(A Night Visitor——A True Story about a ”Celebrity”Being Interviewed)
30. 珍禽血雉(China?s Native Pheasant)
31. 常胜的歌手(A Singer Who Always Wins)
32. 健忘的画眉(The Forgetful Song Thrush)
33. 可爱的南京(Nanjing the Beloved City)
34. 鲁迅先生记(In Memory of Mr.Lu Xun)
35. 苗族龙船节(The Miao Drangon-Boat Festival)
36. 秋天的怀念(Fond Memories of You)
37. 献你一束花(A Bouquet of Flowers for you)
38. 鸭巢围的夜(A Night at Mallard-Nest Village)
39. 玫瑰色的月亮(The Rosy Moon)
40. 内画壶《百子图》(Snuff Bottles with Pictures Inside)
41. 维护团结的人(A Man Upholding Unity)
42. 我有一个志愿(I Have a Dream)
43. 运动员的情操(Sportsmen?s Values)
44. 神话世界九寨沟(Jiuzhaigou,China?s Fairyland)
45. 生命的三分之一(One Third of Our Lifetime)
46. 我可能是天津人(I Might Have Come from Tianjin)
47. 五台名刹画沧桑(The famous Monastery Witnesses Vicissitudes)
48. 爱梦想的羞怯女孩(A Shy Dreamer)
49. 永久的憧憬和追求(My Lnging and yearning)
50. 老人和他的三个儿子(The Old Man and his three sons)
51. 乐山龙舟会多姿多彩(dragon-Boat Festival at Leshan)
52. 撷自那片芳洲的清供(An Offering
53. 三峡多奇景 妙笔夺开工(The Scenic Three Gorges Captured )
54. 初中国旅游可到哪些地方(Tips on Traveling to China the First Time)
第二部分 英译汉
1. A Ball to Roll Around(滚球)
2. A Boupquet for Miss Benson(送给卞老师的一束花)
3. A Boy and His Father Become Partners(父子伙伴情)
4. A Gift of Dreams(梦寐以求的礼物)
5. A Hard Day in the Kitchen(厨房里的一场闹刷)
6. A Nation of Hypochondriacs(一个疑病症患者的国度)
7. Are Books an Endangered Species? (书籍是即将灭绝的物种吗?)
8. A Sailor?s Christmas Gift(一个海员的圣诞礼物)
9. A Tale of Two Smut Merchants(两上淫秽照片商的故事)
10. A Visit with the Folks(探访故亲)
11. Canadian Eskimo Lithographs(加拿大爱斯基摩人的石版画)
12. Divorce and Kids(离婚与孩子)
13. Doug Heir(杜格·埃厄)
14. Fame(声誉)
15. Felicia?s Journey(费利西娅的旅行)
16. Genius Sacrificed for failure(为育庸才损英才)
17. Glories of the Storm(辉煌壮丽的暴风雨)
18. Han Suyin?s China(韩素音笔下的中国)
19. Hate(仇恨)
20. How Should One Read a Book? (怎样读书?)
21. In Praie of the Humble Comma(小小逗号赞)
22. Integrity——From A Mother in Mannville(正直)
23. In the Pursuit of a Haunting and Timeless Truth(追寻一段永世难忘的史实)
24. Killer on Wings is Under Threat(飞翔的杀手正受到威胁)
25. Life in a Violin Case(琴匣子中的生趣)
26. Love Is Not like Merchandise(爱情不是商品)
27. Luck(好运气)
28. Mayhew(生活的道路)
29. My Averae Uncle(艾默大叔——一个普普通通的人)
30. My Father?s Music(我父亲的音乐)
31. My Mother?s Gift (母亲的礼物)
32. New Light Buld Offers Energy Efficiency(新型灯泡提高能效)
33. Of Studies(谈读书)
34. On Leadership(论领导)
35. On Cottages in General(农舍概述)
36. Over the Hill(开小差)
37. Promise of Bluebirds(蓝知更鸟的希望)
38. Stories on a Headboard(床头板上故事多)
39. Sunday(星期天)
40. The Blanket(一条毛毯)
41. The Colour of the Sky(天空的色彩)
42. The date Father Didn?t Keep(父亲失约)
43. The Kiss(吻)
44. The Letter(家书)
45. The Little Boat That Sailed through Time(悠悠岁月小船情)
46. The Living Seas(富有生命的海洋)
47. The Roots of My Ambition(我的自强之源)
48. The song of the River(河之歌)
49. They Wanted Him Everywhere——Herbert von Karajan(1908-1989) (哪儿都要他)
50. Three Great Puffy Rolls(三个又大双暄的面包圈)
51. Trust(信任)
52. Why measure Life in Hearbeats? (何必以心跳定生死？)
53. Why the bones Break(骨折缘何而起)
54. Why Women Live Longer than Men(为什么女人经男人活得长)
丑石
贾平凹
我常常遗憾我家门前的那块丑石呢：
它黑黝黝地卧在那里，牛似的模样；谁也
不知道是什么时候留在这里的.谁也不去
理会它。只是麦收时节，门前摊了麦子，
奶奶总是要说：这块丑石，多碍地面哟，
多时把它搬走吧。
于是，伯父家盖房，想以它垒山墙，
但苦于它极不规则，没棱角儿，也没平面
儿；用赘破开吧，又懒得花那么大气力，
因为河滩并不甚远.随便去掬一块回来，
哪一块也比它强。房盖起来，压铺台阶，
伯父也没有看上它。有一年，来了一个石
匠，为我家洗一台石磨，奶奶又说：用这
块五石吧，省得从远处搬动。石匠看了看，
摇着头，嫌它石质太细，也不采用。
它不像汉白玉那样的细腻，可以凿下
刻字雕花，也不像大青石那样的光滑，可
以供来院纱捶布;它静静地卧在那里，院
边的槐荫没有庇孤它，花儿也不再在它身
边生长。荒草便繁衍出来，枝蔓上下，慢
慢地，竟锈上了绿苔、黑斑。我们这些做
孩子的，也讨庆起它来，曾合伙要搬走它，
但力气又不足；虽时时咒骂它，嫌弃它，An Ugly Stone Jia Pingwa I used to feel sorry for that ugly black piece of stone lying like an ox in front of our door; none knew when it was left there and none paid any attention to it, except at the time when wheat was harvested and my grandma, seeing the grains of wheat spread all over the ground in the front yard of the house, would grumble: "This ugly stone takes so much space. Move it away someday. " Thus my uncle had wanted to use it for the gable when he was building a house, but he was troubled to find it of very irregular shape, with no edges nor corners, nor a flat plane on it. And he wouldn't bother to break it in half with a chisel because the river bank was nearby, where he could have easily fetched a much better stone instead. Even when my uncle was busy with the flight of steps leading to the new house he didn't take a fancy to the ugly stone. One year when a mason came by, we asked him to snake us a stone mill with it. As my grandma put it: "Why net take this one, so you worst have to fetch one from afar." But the arson took a look and shook his head; he wouldn't take it for it was of too fine a quality. It was not like a fine piece of white marble on which words or flowers could be carved, nor like a smooth big bluish stone people used to wash their clothes on. The stone just lay there in silence, enjoying no shading front the pagoda trees by the yard, nor flowers growing around it. As a result weeds multiplied and
也无可奈何，只好任它留在那里去了。
稍稍能安慰我们的，是在那石上有一
个不大不小的坑凹儿，雨天就盛满了水。
常常雨过三天了.地上已经于燥，那石凹
里水儿还有，鸡儿便去那里渴饮。每每到
了十五的夜晚，我们盼着满月出来，就爬
到其上，翘望天边；奶奶总是要骂的，害
怕我们摔下来。果然那一次就摔了下来，
磕破了我的膝盖呢。
人都骂它是丑石，它真是丑得不能再
丑的丑石了。
终有一日，村子里来了一个天文学
家。他在我家门前路过，突然发现了这块
石头，眼光立即就拉直了。他再没有走去，
就住了下来；以后又来了好些人，说这是
一块陨石，从天上落下来己经有二三百年
了，是一件了不起的东西。不久便来了车，
小心翼翼地将它运走了。
这使我们都很惊奇!这又怪又丑的石
头，原来是天上的呢！它补过天，在天上
发过热，闪过光，我们的先祖或许仰望过
它，它给了他们光明、向往、憧憬:而它
落下来了，在污土里，荒草里，一躺就是
几百年了?!
奶奶说: “真看不出:它那么不一般，
却怎么连墙也垒不成，台阶也垒不成呢?”
“它是太丑了。”天文学家说。
“真的，是太丑了。”
“可这正是它的美!”天文学家说，
“它是以丑为美的。”
“以丑为美?”
“是的，丑到极处，便是美到极处。
正因为它不是一般的顽石，当然不能去做
墙，做台阶，不能去雕刻，捶布。它不是
做这些小玩意儿的，所以常常就遭到一般
世俗的讥讽。”
奶奶脸红了，孔也脸红了。
我感到自己的可耻，也感到了丑石的
伟大；我甚至怨恨它这么多年竟会默默地
忍受着这一切，而找又立即深深地感到它
那种不属于误解、寂寞的生存的伟大。
stretched ail over it, their stems and tendrils gradually covered with dark green spots of moss. We children began to dislike the stone too, and would have taken it away if we had been strong enough; all we could do for the present was to leave it alone, despite our disgust or even curses. The only thing that had interested us in the ugly stone was a little pit on top of it, which was filled with water on rainy days. Three days after a rainfall, usually, when the ground had become dry, there was still water in the pit, where chickens went to drink. And every month when it came to the evening of the 15th of lunar calendar, we would climb onto the stone, looking up at the sky, hoping to see the full moon come out from far away. And Granny would give us a scolding, afraid lest we should fall down--and sure enough, I fell down once to have my knee broken. So everybody condemned the stone: an ugly stone, as ugly as it could be. Then one day an astronomer came to the village. He looked the stone square in the eye the moment he came across it. He didn't take his leave but decided to stay in our village. Quite a number of people came afterwards, saying the stone was a piece of aerolite which had fallen down from the sky two or three hundred years ago-what a wonder indeed! Pretty soon a truck carne, and carried it away carefully. It gave us a great surprise! We had never expected that such a strange and ugly stone should have come from the sky! So it had once mended the sky, given out its heat and light there, and our ancestors should have looked up at it. It hard given them light, brought there hopes and expectations, and then it had fallen down to the earth, in the mud and among the weeds, lying there for hundreds of years! My grandma said: "I never expected it should be so great! But why can't people build a wall or pave steps with it?" "It's too ugly, the astronomer said. "Sure, it's really so ugly.” "But that's just where its beauty lies! " the astronomer said, "its beauty comes from its ugliness. " "Beauty from ugliness?" "Yes. When something becomes the ugliest, it turns out the most beautiful indeed. The stone is not an ordinary piece of insensate stone, it shouldn't be used to build a wall or pave the steps, to carve words or flowers or to wash clothes on. It's not the material for those petty common things, and no wonder it's ridiculed often by people with petty common views. My grandma became blushed, and so did l.
匆匆
朱自清
燕子去了，有再来的时候；杨柳枯了，
有再青的时候；桃花谢了，有再开的时候。I feel shame while I feel the greatness of the ugly stone; I have even complained about it having pocketed silently all it had experienced for so many years, but again I am struck by the greatness that lies in its lonely unyielding existence of being misunderstood by people. Rush Zhu Ziqing Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is a time of regreening; peach 但是，聪明的，你告诉我，我们的日子为
什么一去不复返呢？——是有人偷了他
们罢：那是谁?又藏在何处呢?是他们自己
逃走了罢；现在又到了哪里呢?
我不知道他们咨给了我多少日子；但
我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了。在默默里算
着，八千多日子已经从我手中溜去；像针
尖上一滴水滴在大海里，我的日子滴在时
间的流里，没有声音，也没有影子。我不
禁头渗鸿而泪潜潜了。
去的尽管去了，来的尽管来着，去来
的中间，又怎样地匆匆呢?早上我起来的
时候，小屋里射进两三方斜斜的太阳。太
阳他有脚啊，轻轻悄悄地挪移了；我也茫
茫然跟着旋转。于是—洗手的时候，日子
从水盆里过去；吃饭的时候，日子从饭碗
里过去;默默时，便从凝然的双跟前过去。
我觉察他去的匆匆了，伸出手遮挽时，他
又从遮挽着的手边过去，天黑时，我躺在
床上，他便伶伶俐俐地从我身上跨过，从
我脚边飞去了。等我睁开眼和太阳再见，
这算又溜走了一日。我掩着面叹息。但是
新来的日子的影儿又开始在叹息里闪过
了。
在逃去如飞的日子里，在千门万户的
世界里的我能做些什么呢?只有徘徊罢
了，只有匆匆罢了；公在八千多日的匆匆
里，除徘徊外，又剩些什么呢?过去的口
子如轻烟被微风吹散了，如薄雾，被初阳
蒸融了：我留着些什么痕迹呢?我何曾留
着像游丝样的痕迹呢?我赤裸裸来到这世
界，转眼间也将赤裸裸的回去罢?但不能
平的，为什么偏要白白走这一遭啊?
你聪明的，告诉我，我们的日子为什blossoms may have fallen, but they will bloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return? -If they had been stolen by someone, who could it be? Where could ire hide them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they stay at the moment? I do not know how many days I have been given to spend, but I do feel my hands are getting empty. Taking stock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days have already slid away from me .Like a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. Already sweat is starting on my forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes. Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming; yet in between, how swift is the shift, in such a rush? When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small mom in two or three oblongs. The sun has feet, look, he is treading on, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his revolution. 'Thus,--the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands, wears off in the bowl when I eat my meal, and passes away before my daydreaming gaze as I reflect in silence. I can feel his haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but be keeps flowing past my withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he strides over my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has gone. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the new day begins to flash past in the sigh. What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone days have been dispersed as smoke by a fight wind, or evaporated as mist by the left behind any gossamer morning sun. What traces have I left behind me? Have I eve left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to this world, stark nakedness; am I to go hack, in a blink, in the same stark nakedness? It is not fair though: why should 1 have made such a