心情感悟征文--那些阴晴圆缺的日子 His Calligraphy Book

晓风残星

回想
那些阴晴圆缺的日子；
那些悲欢离合的时候。

这是我以前写的一篇日记， 也不是日记， 因为当时是为了考HSC Advanced English Area of Studies 而写的， 刚刚翻译成中文///汗ing 中文爆烂的～

但是是从我的日记改写， 故事中的真真假假并重要， 我只想给大家一送上一个属于我的心情故事。



“The calligraphy book” 他的书法练习册

I slowly turned the knob of the thick wooden door and stumbled into the room. It was empty. I was startled for a moment then it impinged on me. I had just returned from my grandfather’s funeral. The truth was piercing, sharp and unbearable - I had lost him…

我慢慢地转动着木门的把手，蹒跚地进了房间。感觉空荡。迟钝中现实把我拉了回来。我刚从爷爷的葬礼回来。痛彻心扉的事实提醒着我，我永远地失去了他。

Yet his presence still lingered in the air of this room. He was the smell of the room. It was a smell that belonged to grandfather - the scent of his calligraphy ink.

但我还能在空气中依稀地感觉到他的存在。他的味道弥漫着房间。这是属于我爷爷的味道 － 墨汁的香味。

The ink caught my sight and stopped the flood of images in my mind. I remembered I used to call it ‘ squid ink’ and disgusted by the smell of ink used by Chinese brush calligraphers. I called them that rude name in front of my grandpa once I can still recall vividly his explosive reaction just like the colourful changing masks of the Peking Opera. In a split second he frowned and showed his anger with his croaky yet powerful voice: ‘respect our ancestors, respect our roots, it is these roots that make us who we are now.’

砚台中的墨汁占据了我的视线，将我从流水般的记忆中唤醒。记得我曾叫它‘乌贼（squid的字面翻译－‘墨’）汁’，因为它漫延着一股让我难以接受的异味。那时我并不懂事，常常肆无忌惮地在爷爷面前宣扬它新的‘大名‘。爷爷顿时勃然大怒，犹如京剧中的变脸大王，一贯慈祥的面孔被一张张凶神恶煞的脸谱替换。用着他那低沉而沙哑的声音警告着我：‘你要敬重我们的先祖，敬重我们的根，因为他们智慧所以才造就我们的今天。

Closing my eyes as my hands slowly move over the objects in the room, feeling the textures with my fingertips, each exploring different memories shared between granddaughter and grandpa. The rough cover of grandpa’s treasured calligraphy book caused me to pause in my tracks.

Slowly, I open the cover as the ancient styled characters emerge. As I softly moved my fingers along the faded writing to the tiny insect bites on the edges, I gently turn the yellowed thin rice paper protecting the ink. His child-like writing enchants me. The variation of sizes and the uneven strokes of the ugly characters that scribbled across the page showed that he too, was once a child like me.

缓缓的揭开封面，古老的字体顿显眼前。 指尖轻轻的划过了模糊的字体到页角的虫口，渐渐的翻起那泛黄的宣纸。他儿时的字体使我惊讶。 本子上那些潦草大小不一的丑陋字体显示原来我爷爷，也像我一样曾经是孩子。

I remembered sitting on his lap, flipping the pages of his calligraphy book and asking him about the characters that I used to refer to as pictures. They were the authoritative writing of his middle age, powerful strokes displayed. But these sophisticated characters had meanings that I could ever understand.

记得当年我曾坐在他怀里，撒娇般的翻阅他的书法册追问那些我无法区别，想图画办字体的。那些是他苍劲有力字迹，可惜深奥字体拥有我无法辨别的含义.

There is only a limited number of years that we can span in this world, many things only when it is at a lost that we learn treasure. Things wont stay forever, existence is inequilvent to eternality. Today’s neglection maybe tomorrow’s regret. So please treasure now, treasure things you possess, treasure every moment.

人生在世能有多少个春夏秋冬？很多东西只有失去了才会懂得拥有。天下无不散的宴席，存在并不代表永恒，今天的忽视或许就是明天的遗憾。请珍惜现在，珍惜所有，珍惜每一天。

servicestream

厄。。。
楼主这字的颜色，看得我很纠结