我又读了一遍王开岭的《残片》。
I read Wang Kailing's' Fragments' again.
我又看到了那个世界。
I saw that world again.
那是一个生机的，寂静的地方。只有雪，只有雪，听！那是雪的寂静，雪的心跳……。
That is a lively, quiet place. Only snow, only snow, listen! That is the silence of snow, the heartbeat of snow.
重读他，只因为那烙在我心头的四个字：雪是哀的。
Rereading him, only because of the four words imprinted in my heart: Snow is sorrowful.
怎样？看到这四个字，你的感觉如何？我看到时是被狠狠“电”了一下的！
OK? How do you feel when you see these four words? When I saw it, I was severely 'electrified'!
雪是哀的，初时甚觉奇怪，雪为何而哀？大概是人类的破坏，人类的欲望，无尽的欲望……
Snow is sorrowful. At first, I felt strange. Why does snow mourn? Probably human destruction, human desire, endless desire
不仅仅如此，不仅是其意令我感动。他的后文写到：“这句话不知怎的蓦然落在了纸上……要知道，我本意是想说：雪是皑的。”
Not only that, but also its meaning moved me. His postscript reads: "This sentence suddenly fell on paper for some unknown reason... You know, my original intention was to say: Snow is
这实在让当时自以为已经会作文的我震撼又羞愧无已。
This really shocked and embarrassed me, who thought I already knew how to write at that time.
雪是皑的，乃众所周知；但“雪是哀的”的呢？是要细细咀嚼，且为了理解还要往下看的。
It is well known that snow is warm; But what about 'snow is sad'? It requires careful chewing and further reading to understand.
这随笔式的写法，一闪而动的灵感触动着我，一时不能自己。
This essay style writing style, with its sudden inspiration, touched me and I couldn't do it myself for a moment.
如果说王开岭的文字是九万里高空中腾飞的大鹏，是北海中畅海的鲲；我的文字就是囚在笼里的金丝雀，是锢在鱼缸中的小金鱼。
If Wang Kailing's words are like a great Peng soaring in the sky for 90000 miles, or a Kun swimming in the open sea of the North Sea; My words are like canaries trapped in a cage, like little goldfish trapped in a fish tank.
也许一开始，作者并不想吟唱雪的哀伤。但在他的潜意识里，雪在哭。雪的哭声在他脑海中荡漾。不知不觉，他写下了“雪是哀的”，此时他也许正想涂掉这个字，但停顿了一下：这让他隐隐动容了。于是，有了雪的心声。
Perhaps at first, the author did not want to sing about the sadness of snow. But in his subconscious, Snow was crying. The cry of snow echoed in his mind. Unconsciously, he wrote down 'Snow is sorrowful'. At this moment, he may have been about to erase the word, but paused for a moment: it moved him faintly. So, there was the voice of snow.
这书是老师推荐我的。坦白说，在看这书之前，我并不知道如何写随笔。
This book was recommended to me by my teacher. To be honest, before reading this book, I didn't know how to write essays.
我的“随笔”僵硬、空虚。“没有一点自己。”简直是“一檄八股”！我的老师这样评价道。对此，我自己也郁闷得很。
My essay is stiff and empty. Not a bit of oneself. "It's like" one and eight shares "! My teacher evaluated it this way. I am also very frustrated about this myself.
直到，我遇上《残片》。
Until I encountered 'Fragments'.
《残片》很短，只解释了雪为何而哀。
The fragment is very short, only explaining why the snow mourns.
雪，清洁神性的雪正在被驱逐出大地。我也多年未见雪了。也许，真正的雪，我从未见过。我见过的，也只是白而空洞的碎屑，那是雪的残骸，死去的雪。
Snow, the pure and divine snow, is being expelled from the earth. I haven't seen snow for many years either. Perhaps, I have never seen real snow before. What I have seen are only white and hollow fragments, the remains of snow, dead snow.
这篇文章，让我闻到雪后的空气中温暖湿润的味道，和那充满生机的寂静。
This article made me smell the warm and humid scent of the air after snow, and the vibrant silence.
我愈发感受到雪的可贵和雪的悲哀，同时也愈为人类感到悲哀了。
I increasingly feel the value and sadness of snow, and at the same time, I also feel more sad for humanity.
对这雪的感触愈深，对那唱出雪的哀歌的诗人也就愈加敬佩。
The deeper I feel about this snow, the more I admire the poet who sings the mournful song of snow.
诗意而随性的语言，干净而超脱俗尘的文字，无不洗涤着我的心灵。
Poetic and casual language, clean and otherworldly words, all cleanse my soul.
我把自己泡在他的文字里，渐渐地，我明白了随笔的含意：就是以随笔的笔触共振自己心灵的过程。那是心灵真正的声音，而不是供人欣赏的玩物。那种声音是应该尊敬的，无论你支持与否，你都因怀着虔诚去读它。
I immersed myself in his words and gradually understood the meaning of essays: the process of resonating with my own soul with the strokes of essays. That is the true voice of the soul, not a plaything for people to appreciate. That voice should be respected, whether you support it or not, you read it with reverence.
我真挚地快乐能邂逅这书，让我遇见了一个真正的诗人，更让我遇见了我自己。
I am sincerely happy to have encountered this book, which has allowed me to meet a true poet and even more importantly, to meet myself.