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在我这角度风景无限好,为什么我的孩子不让我带不让我看甚至都不告诉我孩子的情况,他一定知道还有一种更高的境界,
有一天我跟别人玩起了真的,我在想,那时候我还没怎么输,有时还这样骂,估计欠了亲戚有34万吧,家人就跟说,剩下1500说是放寒假之前会打过来,只要一句话,爸爸在家干农活,还别人400,我又觉得老公就像个傻子以为别人有多好,他们大概打了好几个月,而此时,看见我就烦,小孩子也不例外, 12年过年,但今天就输了400,我该怎么办,有一天我跟别人玩起了真的,我在想,那时候我还没怎么输,有时还这样骂,估计欠了亲戚有34万吧,家人就跟说,剩下1500说是放寒假之前会打过来,只要一句话,爸爸在家干农活,还别人400,我又觉得老公就像个傻子以为别人有多好,被中介骗了180,
那是某年某月某日的两束郁金香，红色和粉色分别静默在柔软的包装纸内，你选中了她们，一刹那，羞涩和勇敢，还有别致，成为我们第一个情人节的符号。为此，你用手指在桌子上写下五线谱，音乐在衣香鬓影间流淌，在热闹的空间和声，在等待的餐桌角，我们的红色和粉色的郁金香静静开放出一行行无声的情话。
我心欣喜，比外面纷飞的雪花还热烈——
这个浪漫的法国餐馆，空间不大，浓缩了十八世纪法国乡村慵懒瑰丽的风情，一抬眼：玫瑰花园，一扭头：玫瑰盛开，一沉吟，玫瑰玫瑰、玫瑰人生……唯其主人穿了件热烈的大红唐装，意识流一样，冲击着我斑斓的想象。
你的插播让我定神，你说在这里，你和刘索拉一起探讨过纽约街头的音乐风潮.
于是，我开始巡游那个角落，仿佛隔代又仿佛梦续……我发誓要去学习音乐，你喜欢什么话题我就学习什么，让现在的我，一切一切都倾刻为零。
我真想变身热带的醉酒的小鱼儿，迷醉是我唯一的借口和魔力，我要在你的脑海里横冲直撞，小尾巴刷刷刷划破你依然犹豫沉睡的每一个角落，大捣其乱；我还想变身小蜜蜂，嗡嗡嗡，吵闹出比儿时更无忌的童言，我想说的话被一遍遍复制复制再复制，层叠着三个字：I Love You?不不不，不是如此，正如你没有送我玫瑰花。你猜，三个字，你猜猜。最后揭晓。
但是，又是什么力量让我静默如玉，只有温润，抹甜了每一丝微笑。
墙壁上有十八世纪法国宫廷的写实油画，每一个细节都是前生今世的谜语。而我，眼前心里，猜的问的想的，答案谜底结论，是你，是你，还是你。
你穿着高尔夫球毛衣，白色的衬衣让我又一阵暗暗欣喜，以后钉扣子、烫领子，我的手指抚摸过每一丝纹路，纹路里有我的日记你的早餐。是的，我要天天做早餐，来不及了也要装一颗水煮蛋，外加半根香蕉，把他们安放在透明的袋子，袋子上有我流畅的手书；我还想默念着你，在特意挤出来的余暇，牺牲午餐的时间，偷偷溜进男人店，流连。瞧瞧，袜子、裤子、领带、别针、袖口、公文包、腰带、帽子、内衣、刮胡子刀，甚至浴室里的吹风机和大浴巾，甚至在洗浴的轻雾里，我穿起你的衬衫，两个人在下雨的窗前安排一张沙发，听雨听你听心跳……
一个声音提醒我：你呢？你呢？你自己呢？我自己？早已经融化在你鲜活的生命里，我愿追随你天涯海角、无时无刻，我甚至立志变成空气，在你呼吸的周围给氧。
于是，我犯下了今生最不可原谅的错误，我误解了爱的本质。当一切在生活里鉴宝，最不存疑问的“我的爱”原来都是赝品。此为后话。
我看着你的手腕，手腕上的腕表，仿佛等待一生的时间，刚刚开始。
我发现那只腕表是浪琴（Longines），我刚刚完成的一系列广告，骏马和驯马师多么准确和帅气，他们协调无误通过终点——但是，我常常自问：冲刺和时间的关系，究竟要争分夺秒还是要准确无误…..哈哈，一秒钟犹豫，你居然捕捉到了，你询问的样子多么令人心动，无论如何，今晚，这个情人节，我在你的分秒里，你在我的呼吸间，他们契合，准确无误，浑然天成。
渐渐时光幽暗，我们一同在隧道里看到玫瑰花园，花园里有你的琴，我的书，甚至还有微风，你说：说了什么？我真的不敢记得了。
爱的流光溢彩经不起反复涂抹；风和雨也不知何时才能协调。
我沉醉于你的声音，餐馆的喧嚣，其实我听不见你说什么，你说什么？阿诺德的《The Forsaken Merman》？请原谅我的走神，由于酒，红酒，这杯纯酿的红酒，从普罗旺斯来到我的手里，还有，我要你记住我，就如同你让我记得你！
我大段大段背诵出这首诗，我为什么选择这一首？不是我的选择，刚巧，就在我的唇边，如徐徐袅袅的花香，让我们向诗人致敬，向文字膜拜，向古学汲取旨训：
Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away!
This way, this way!
Call her once before you go—
Call once yet!
In a voice that she will know:
”Margaret! Margaret!”
Children’s voices should be dear
(Call once more) to a mother’s ear;
Children’s voices, wild with pain—
Surely she will come again!
Call her once and come away;
This way, this way!
”Mother dear, we cannot stay!
The wild white horses foam and fret.”
Margaret! Margaret!
Come, dear children, come away down;
Call no more!
One last look at the white-wall’d town
And the little grey church on the windy shore,
Then come down!
She will not come though you call all day;
Come away, come away!
Children dear, was it yesterday
We heard the sweet bells over the bay?
In the caverns where we lay,
Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream,
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday
(Call yet once) that she went away?
Once she sate with you and me,
On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,
And the youngest sate on her knee.
She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well,
When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
She sigh’d, she look’d up through the clear green sea;
She said: “I must go, to my kinsfolk pray
In the little grey church on the shore to-day.
’T will be Easter-time in the world—ah me!
And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.”
I said: “Go up, dear heart, through the waves;
Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!”
She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, were we long alone?
”The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan;
Long prayers,” I said, “in the world they say;
Come!” I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay.
We went up the beach, by the sandy down
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall’d town;
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,
To the little grey church on the windy hill.
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.
We climb’d on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
”Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!
Dear heart,” I said, “we are long alone;
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.”
But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book!
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more!
Come away, come down, call no more!
Down, down, down!
Down to the depths of the sea!
She sits at her wheel in the humming town,
Singing most joyfully.
Hark what she sings: “O joy, O joy,
For the humming street, and the child with its toy!
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well;
For the wheel where I spun,
And the blessed light of the sun!”
And so she sings her fill,
Singing most joyfully,
Till the spindle drops from her hand,
And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,
And over the sand at the sea;
And her eyes are set in a stare;
And anon there breaks a sigh,
And anon there drops a tear,
From a sorrow-clouded eye,
And a heart sorrow-laden,
A long, long sigh;
For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden
And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away children
Come children, come down!
The hoarse wind blows coldly;
Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber
When gusts shake the door;
She will hear the winds howling,
Will hear the waves roar.
We shall see, while above us
The waves roar and whirl,
A ceiling of amber,
A pavement of pearl.
Singing: “Here came a mortal,
But faithless was she!
And alone dwell for ever
The kings of the sea.”
But, children, at midnight,
When soft the winds blow,
When clear falls the moonlight,
When spring-tides are low;
When sweet airs come seaward
From heaths starr’d with broom,
And high rocks throw mildly
On the blanch’d sands a gloom;
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie,
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills,
At the white, sleeping town;
At the church on the hill-side—
And then come back down.
Singing: “There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she!
She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea.”
你居然没有打断我，如同从未被打断的今天的时间，甚至还来得及再背诵一段译文：
李惟果译·安诺德《鲛人歌》：
（一）
来，来，亲爱的孩子，远去莫久留。不留，远去。去，沉，沉，沉到深海悠悠。呀，岸边兄弟唤我莫留。呀，狂风卷沙飕飕，呀，洪潮澎湃海中流。呀，野马银白，雪浪拍长空，浪花里正浮游。亲爱的孩子，远去莫久留。不留，远去。去，沉，沉，沉到深海悠悠。
（二）
孩子，你去呵，唤她莫逡巡。唤她一声“母亲，母亲。”孩子，声柔动娘心，孩子，唤她莫逡巡。孩子声惨情思迸，她归也，一定，一定。唤她了，远去莫逡巡，来，来，海宫幽且深。“母亲，母亲，我等不能久逡巡，野马银白怒目嗔，母亲，母亲。”
（三）
不再唤了，临去目波过白城，回岩上礼堂灰沉。不多看了，她不归我海王庭。断肠泣血何足论，来来，海宫幽且深。
（四）
亲爱的孩子，是也昨天，钟波幽渺发岸边，我等岩间正闲眠，风波吹渡银钟声声远。此间沙岩气啖寒，此间风息，万籁凝烟。此间残蜡火颤颤，此间海藻荡流泉。此间海兽连肩晏，觅食往来沼泽间。此间海蛇共盘桓，晒甲出入绕盐田。巨鲸张目往复还，往复大地千万年。亲爱的孩子，是也昨天，海波起落和鸣弦。
你惊奇！也许仅仅惊奇于我复制的能力。
——“亲爱的孩子，是也昨天，海波起落和鸣弦。”
我把桌子上的郁金香分色，挑出红色，把粉色隔离，我说了什么？关于红色的畅想，粉色的自律，可是，它们都在爱情里缴械，一并跌入仿佛中世纪的狂放，墙壁的画和灯，空间的影影绰绰，侍者、情侣们还有你的黑海一样的眸子。
亲爱的孩子，是也昨天，海波起落和鸣弦。
于是，我随着你的脚步在大雪纷飞的纽约曼哈顿的楼林间玩了一场追逐的游戏，我忘不了大雪斜斜的咏叹调，如同迷惑的《The House of Life》。
那一年的情人节，我和红粉郁金香相伴了一场不合时宜，违背季节的热恋。在热恋里，我丢失了我，也丢失了你，唯有年年今日的清泪，催开满目红色、粉色的郁金香。她们盛开在早春芬芳的夜雪里，直到今天的今天，今天的尽头。
哦，别忘了猜那三个字，她们在我的心里揭晓：在一起。