让我们荡起双桨小船儿推开波浪
水中倒映着美丽的白塔
四周环绕着绿树红墙
小船儿轻轻，漂荡在水中
迎面吹来了凉爽的风
这个冬日新春即将来临的一个黄昏，我们走在北海公园的湖畔，夕阳在光滑的柳枝间徐徐降落,无比静谧的一刻，从心中的某个角落飞出了儿时的这首歌，觉着自己好像就是这条小船，漂过了五湖四海，今天漂回到曾经熟悉的红墙碧瓦之间，眼睛热热的潮湿了。几个曲艺艺人从身边经过，对着我打起了快板儿，清脆的声音跳跃着划过正在降临的夜色，我们开心地朗声而笑。
回了张自忠路铁一号的老房子,灰楼长廊下那棵国槐竟还在。我依稀看到一个穿着鲜红色灯芯绒外衣扎着编辫儿的小姑娘在树间的皮筋儿上跳跃，白色的槐花在夏天最后的日子里正发出浓郁的香气...这画面这气味仿若一梦, 却又熟悉得如同昨天。离家多远,走了多久,一瞬间与童年相遇，竟如此温暖。明白了一件事:故乡是永远故乡,即便它面目全非,它却是过去的现实活在我今天和明天的生命中,永不改变。
我爱我的故乡北京。
“Let us swing the oars
See little boats push the waves
In the water is the reflection of the White Pagoda
Around are green trees and red wall
Softly drifting, little boats
Into our face blowing a cool breeze
……”
When the winter was receding and the spring was faintly felt in the air,
we came to Beijing. At one serene moment while we were walking in Beihai Park, this childhood song emerged from a secret corner of my heart. Behind the willow branches, the sun was setting. I felt like one of these little boats, drifting across waters and now back into the red wall and emerald tiles once so familiar to me. A few folklore performers passed by and started to recite a joke to us to the rhythm of their bamboo clappers. The crisp sound pierced through the dusk, and we all laughed with joy.
We made it back to my old home decades ago at “Iron No. 1” of Zhangzizhong Road, once the government of a warlord who seized power of Beijing for some time. By the long covered corridor outside my window, the Chinese scholartrees were still standing. Dreamily, I came into a late summer afternoon and saw a little girl in a red corduroy jacket, hair in braids, jumping between two rubber-band strings tied to these scholartrees. The white flowers hung in full blossom, sending forth wafts of strong fragrance… The scene and the scent were as clear and close as yesterday. This sudden encounter with my childhood face to face, even in a twinkling, filled me with tenderness and warmath. Hometown is always there, even it takes on an unrecognisable new appearance. The past is a reality, not just a memory. It will live on in my life today, tomorrow, and never change.
I love my hometown Beijing.
See little boats push the waves
In the water is the reflection of the White Pagoda
Around are green trees and red wall
Softly drifting, little boats
Into our face blowing a cool breeze
……”
When the winter was receding and the spring was faintly felt in the air,
we came to Beijing. At one serene moment while we were walking in Beihai Park, this childhood song emerged from a secret corner of my heart. Behind the willow branches, the sun was setting. I felt like one of these little boats, drifting across waters and now back into the red wall and emerald tiles once so familiar to me. A few folklore performers passed by and started to recite a joke to us to the rhythm of their bamboo clappers. The crisp sound pierced through the dusk, and we all laughed with joy.We made it back to my old home decades ago at “Iron No. 1” of Zhangzizhong Road, once the government of a warlord who seized power of Beijing for some time. By the long covered corridor outside my window, the Chinese scholartrees were still standing. Dreamily, I came into a late summer afternoon and saw a little girl in a red corduroy jacket, hair in braids, jumping between two rubber-band strings tied to these scholartrees. The white flowers hung in full blossom, sending forth wafts of strong fragrance… The scene and the scent were as clear and close as yesterday. This sudden encounter with my childhood face to face, even in a twinkling, filled me with tenderness and warmath. Hometown is always there, even it takes on an unrecognisable new appearance. The past is a reality, not just a memory. It will live on in my life today, tomorrow, and never change.
I love my hometown Beijing.
