《武汉封城日记》连载
今天是2020年3月23日 星期一 第三十八篇
溫暖的天氣使多數人脫去了線衣。根據經驗，在真正進入夏季之前天氣還會有所反複，一陣春雨過後天氣就會轉涼，但氣溫很快又會升起，直到人們真正穿上單衣，炎熱徹底占據這座城市。
伴隨著花瓣的紛然墜落，青翠的嫩芽布滿桃樹那妖嬈的枝頭。勃勃生機鼓動著坐落於長江、漢水交匯之地的武漢三鎮。自武昌起義，武漢名聲鵲起，依長江與盤踞於出海口的大上海同氣相求同聲相應，同為近代中國最具有現代文明氣息的文化、經濟重鎮。
今天它在這場瘟疫中以極端高昂的代價艱難挺立，但災禍對於這座城市並非第一次，也不會是最後一次。
我們理應建立一座巨大的紀念碑，鐫刻每一位逝者的姓名，記錄下我們的哀泣和犯下的罪以及劫後餘生者的沉思、懺悔和期許。非如此，我們無以安撫這座城市的靈魂，抹不去那充滿腥臭味的血淚.........
偉大，必以沉重為基。 高尚，必在汙濁中砥礪前行........
現代和文明，如同租界、摩登、探戈、肥皂、香水、股票、威士忌、漢陽造、飛虎隊、水兵等等這些名詞，對於武漢這座以碼頭文化為特征的城市和生活在這裏的人民並不陌生，而且非常熟悉。而所有這一切直到某一天戛然而止，然後沉淪，直到重新浮出水面，喘息著，述說著往昔，如墨綠間的嫣紅.......
我是一個懷舊的人，而在這段日子裏，我的目光只願截取那段充滿灰色和光亮的時間，之前太模糊，之後太過熟悉。藉此我逃避眼淚，逃避無情的喧囂、叫嚷聲.......
打開封閉已久的玻璃窗，江風迎面而至，熟悉的汽笛聲令人難以自禁。
緊挨在國民政府大樓的民眾樂園，文書巷的曲折幽深，孫中山銅人像後面的紙醉金迷，沿江碼頭的暗流湧動，曇華林的清淨，胭脂巷這個我至今只知其名的神秘巷子，車站路煙熏火燎的氣味、人群，令人怦然心動的火車鳴笛之聲，大舞臺、越劇院的絲竹鶯語，小偷，流浪者，賣涼薯和瓜子兒的小孩，仿佛非常遙遠的湖濱，煙雲籠罩中的義士墳塚，九女墩........
我是個沒有理想的人，所有這些我覺得都可以有，無論你叫他自然秩序甚至市場經濟什麼的都無所謂。在我的世界裏，只要有常識就可以生存，城市就足以延續，其他的都應該關進盒子裏，之所以要關進盒子，是因為我們沒法將之抹去，就好像我們的心中的惡與罪。
我看見很多人正湧上大街，男的穿著嚴整，女的花花綠綠。他們沒有重量，仿佛隨風而至。他們在等待，在傾聽，而聲音好像過於遙遠，於是他們聽的更加認真.......，他們是未來者還是早已逝去的魂靈？我在高樓的一端，緊挨著臺.........
我曾經寫過一些關於這座城市的詩句，我覺的可以當做這部日記的結尾和告別。那其實是一首挽歌。
真遺憾，那首詩已經找不到了。
（完）
MONDAY, MAR. 23, 2020
The warm weather has caused most people to take off their sweaters.
As a rule of thumb, the weather repeats itself until the actual summer
season. It turns cooler after a spring shower, but the temperature soon
rises again, people put on fewer clothes, and the heat takes over the city.
As the petals fall, the green buds cover the enchanting branches of
the peach trees. The three towns of Wuhan city, located at the confluence
of the Yangtze River and Han River, are vibrant with life. Since the
Wuchang Uprising, like Shanghai, which is located on another side of the
Yangtze River, Wuhan has gained fame and become the most important
cultural and economic town in modern China.
Today Wuhan is struggling to survive the plague at an extremely
high cost, but this disaster is not the first, nor will it be the last for the
city.
We deserve a huge monument engraved with the names of each of
the dead, a record of our sobs and sins, and the thoughts, confessions,
and hopes of those who have survived. Without this, we cannot appease
the soul of this city and erase the foul smell of blood and tears.
Greatness must be based on a heavy foundation. The noble
characters must grow and come out of the hardship of living.
Modernity and civilization, like the term's concession, modern,
tango, soap, perfume, stock, whiskey, made in Hanyang, flying tigers,
sailors, etc., are not unfamiliar to Wuhan, a city characterized by pier
culture, and the people living here, but very familiar. And all of this ends
abruptly one day, then sinks until it resurfaces, gasping for breath, telling
the story of the past, vivid like the sweet red between the dark green.
I am a nostalgic person, and these days my eyes are only willing to
intercept that period full of gray and light. Before it is too blurred, after
it is too familiar, that is how I escape the tears, the relentless clamor, the
shouting.
When I opened the long-closed window, the river breeze greeted
me, do did the familiar sound of the whistle.
The people's park next to the National Government building, the
twists and turns of Clerical Alley, the crazy life behind the bronze statue
of Dr. Sun Yat-sen, the undercurrents along the river docks, the purity of
the Tan Hua Forest, the mysterious alley of Rouge Lane---I still only
known by their names, the smoky smell of Station Road, the crowds, the
heart-stopping sound of the train whistle, the whispers of the Great Stage
and Yue theatre, the thieves, the vagrants, the children who see cold
potatoes and melon seeds. It seems the lakeside is far, far away, the graves
of the righteous shrouded in clouds of smoke, the Jiu Nidun......
I am a person without complicated ideas. I think we can have all
these all whether you call them the natural order or even the market
economy or whatever. It does not matter. In my world, as long as
common sense can survive, the city is enough to continue. The rest
should be locked into a box. The reason for that is because we cannot
erase it, just as we cannot erase the evil and sin of our hearts.
I saw a lot of people swarming the street, men dressed up and
women in fancy clothes. They seem weightless as if they were coming
with the wind. They were waiting, listening, and the voices seemed from
too far away, so they listened more attentively ...... I'm not sure if they are
the future or the spirits of the long-time dead. I am at the end of a tall
building, next to the platform.
This is the end of my pandemic diary. I guess it is the time to say
farewell to my dear readers.
I have written a poem about Wuhan city during pandemic. It is
actually an elegy- a lament for the dead.
It's a shame that I can't find that poem anymore.
