Autumn Rain
(Japan/Kawabata Yasunari)
In the depths of my eyes, the phantom of a fireball landing on the red leaves mountain was reflected.
Rather than saying it is a mountain, it is more appropriate to say it is a valley. The mountains are high and the valleys are deep, and the mountains stand majestically on both sides of the streams. Without looking up, it is difficult to see the sky at the top of the mountain. The sky is still blue, but there is a slight hint of twilight.
The white rocks in the stream are also covered with a thin layer of dusk mist. The silence of the red leaves enveloped me from above and penetrated my body and mind. Do you want me to feel the approaching sunset early? The water of the creek was azure, and the red leaves were not reflected in the blue of the creek. I doubted my eyes. At this time, I saw fire falling from the sky on the blue stream.
It didn’t seem like fire rain or fire powder was falling, just small fire balls flickering on the surface of the stream, but there was no doubt that it was falling from the sky. The small ball of fire landed on the blue stream and disappeared immediately. The moment the fire fell from the valley, the color of the fire was invisible due to the red leaves. So, what is happening on the top of the mountain? Looking up, I saw small fireballs falling from the sky at an unimaginable speed. Probably because the fire ball was moving, with the majestic peaks as its banks, the narrow sky looked like a river flowing.
This is the phantom that occurred to me on the special express train to Kyoto, just as I was about to take a nap at night.
Fifteen or sixteen years ago, when I was hospitalized for gallstone surgery, the two girls I met by chance always remain in my memory. This time I went to Kyoto just to visit one of the girls in a hotel in Kyoto.
Another girl was born without a bile duct. It was said that she could only live for a year at most, so she had to undergo surgery to implant an artificial tube to connect the liver and gallbladder. The mother was standing in the corridor with her baby in her arms. I took a closer look and said:
"How wonderful, this child is so cute."
"Thank you. I'm afraid I will have two days today and tomorrow." It’s not possible, I’m waiting for my family to pick me up,” my mother replied calmly.
The child fell asleep quietly. She was wrapped in a kimono with a camellia pattern. She probably had a bandage on her chest after surgery, and the clothes were loose and bulky.
I said such abrupt greetings to the mother, probably because I was careless about each other among hospital patients. Many children come to this surgical hospital for heart surgery. Before the operation, some of them ran around in the corridors, and some took the elevator up and down, playing and making noise. Unconsciously, I also said hello to these children. They are all children between the ages of five and seven or eight, suffering from congenital heart disease. Heart surgery is best performed in early childhood, otherwise the patient may die in infancy.
One of these children in particular caught my attention. Every time I take the elevator, I almost always see her at the corner of the elevator. The five-year-old girl squatted alone behind the legs of the standing adult, always silent. Her displeased eyes shone fiercely, and her stubbornly pursed mouth was tightly closed. I inquired from the personal nurse, and according to her, the girl spent two or three hours riding up and down the elevator alone almost every day. Even sitting on the bench in the corridor, she remained sullen and silent. I tried to talk to her, but her eyes didn't move. I said to my nurse:
"This child has great potential!"
Later, the girl disappeared.
I asked the nurse: "Then the child also had an operation? How is the postoperative condition?"
"She went home without the operation. She saw the child next to the bed. She said stubbornly: I don’t want to have an operation, I want to go home, I don’t want to have an operation, I want to go home.”
“Well...but, Will she die in infancy? "
This time I came to Kyoto just to visit this young girl who is now an adult.
The sound of rain hitting the bus window woke me up from my hazy dream. The apparition disappeared. Just as I was about to doze off again, I heard the sound of raindrops hitting the car window. In the blink of an eye, it was windy and rainy, and the sound of raindrops hitting the car window became more and more intense. The raindrops that hit the windowpane fell diagonally down the windowpane one drop at a time. Some raindrops flowed from one end of the car window to the other. It flows, stops briefly, and then starts flowing again. The flow stops, the flow stops, it seems very rhythmic. Drop by drop, the ones behind catch up with the ones in front, and the ones above fall low to the bottom, drawing interlaced lines. I heard music from the flowing rhythm.
I think the phantom of fire falling on the red-leaf-stained mountain is silent. However, the music that hit the raindrops flowing on the car window glass turned into the phantom of the falling fire.
The day after tomorrow, a New Year kimono performance will be held in the lobby of a hotel in Kyoto. I was invited by the kimono shop owner to visit. One of the clothing models was named Ritsuko Beppu. I can't forget her name. However, I had no idea she was a clothing model. I didn't go to appreciate the red leaves in Kyoto, I would rather watch Ritsuko's performance.
The next day, the autumn rain continued. In the afternoon, I watched TV in the lobby on the fourth floor.
This place is like the lounge of a banquet hall. There are already two or three pairs of wedding guests, which makes it very crowded. The dressed bride also passes by here. Occasionally I looked back and saw the bride and groom who had queued up early walking out of the venue and standing behind me to take commemorative photos.
The kimono shop owner was there to deliver a speech. I asked, has Ritsuko Beppu come? The boss immediately pointed nearby with his eyes. It turned out that Ritsuko was looking at the bride and groom taking commemorative photos in front of the glass window that was dimmed by the autumn rain with displeased eyes. She pressed her lips together. This slim and beautiful girl is still alive in the world. I wanted to go forward and ask: Do you still remember me? Can you remember? But I still hesitated after all.
"We will ask her to wear a bridal gown for tomorrow's performance, so..." the kimono shop owner whispered in my ear.
(End of full text)
(Test questions have not yet been announced)
The red maple leaves and red fire balls are extremely gorgeous. But they appear in fantasy, at dusk, and in wandering journeys.
A little girl underwent surgery obediently, but she was still going to die. It was beautiful when I was dying, wearing a beautiful camellia kimono, and my family was at peace.
Another stubborn little girl refused to undergo surgery but survived. It seems that he has won, but he still has an "unpleasant" look in his eyes, watching the hopeful newlyweds indifferently, maybe with disdain, maybe with longing. Even if you put on the bride's clothes, it's just a performance.
It seems that whether it is alive or dead, whether it is true or false, it all exists according to the laws of heaven, and no one needs to deliberately interfere. Appreciate it when you encounter it, and have no regrets if you miss it. Life and death, existence and nothingness, beauty and imperfection, moment and eternity, all seem to be viewed aesthetically.
A thousand hates and a thousand emotions, everyone is bored and complains.
There is a Japanese haiku:
I only wish
Spring
To die under the flowers,
February
Fifteenth
When the moon is full.
This article is really difficult to use for high school exam questions. Even at the age of 25, I couldn’t answer. I have never been a fan of Japanese literature. I feel like it is all just chattering, without any sense of ease and relaxation. Now it seems that I should read any book. The delicacy and subtlety in the verbosity can especially exercise patience and enhance understanding.