Haze – 霾 – English

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The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale. 阳光下遮了一层灰色的纱,颜色淡了些许。

Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point. To see the world through grey is spleen, depression.

天怎么可以这么低,压的人忘记呼吸,我们驻足房间,被困在原地。一天,两天,等待救援,等待阳光的脸色不在苍白。一年,两年,我们等着。须鬓皆白,我们等着。住入棺材,我们等着。难道我们就只能等着,等着看着,时间老了,世界花了,家依旧还是灰色。

我想救我,救我离开牢笼,我也想救人,救人成就英雄,万众瞩目。可是,可是我是谁呢?太过渺小,毕竟那是霾,灰色的霾。我一人的反抗,又们能掀起多大的风浪,一缕还是一毫。

坐着,看着,等着。不,我不要这样,我们总该做点什么,那怕是鼓起腮帮子,拼命的向外面吹气也好。或许我能可以吹散那淡淡灰色,吹开那薄薄的纱。其实,我知道,那只是奢望,可是,就算没有实现,但是我做过了,我们做过了。总是做了点什么,没有在那坐着,看着,等着。

我怀念,怀念曾经冬天的味道。那是阳光的味道,天上的阳光以及地上的阳光。还有寒冷的味道,那如刀似的寒冷,一次次的刮割鼻腔内的汗毛。那是我怀念的味道。

我好久没有感觉到它的味道了,即使偶尔阳光冲破屏障,透过窗照到我的脸上。我也只是隔着窗去感受,感受暖暖的味道。本该剔透的玻璃,蒙上一层薄薄的灰色,我怕了,真的怕了。见到灰色,我无措。

其实我想逃离,我又能逃离去那里,毕竟生活还要继续。一根线被系在那个桩子上,我就只能在那个圈里磨磨。让我跳出那个圈子,放掉一切,说实话,我没有那个勇气,即使我本来就没有什么。

霾,那个灰色纱,改变了好多好多东西。我只是想,我们该做点什么了,让世界变回去,变回我们曾经熟悉的样子。这难吗?这好难,好难。

我生活在这个年代,赶上了这段岁月。物质生活丰富的同时,它们也给我带来了它们的附属品。承受,我们要承受这代价。或许,10年,或许20年,或许,我们看不见。蓝色高高的天,白色无染的雪。我真的希望,让孩子们看一眼,看一眼那样的世界。就如同我看过一眼一样,世界是那么的醇粹,没有灰色的,灰色的纱曼。曾经天天如此,那不是偶然。



Source : 新浪博客

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January 26, 2016 @ 07:31:29Current Revision
Content
<p>The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale. 阳光下遮了一层灰色的纱,颜色淡了些许。</p>  <p>The sun is covered by a layer of gray yarn, its colour has gone slightly pale. </p>
<p>Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. <span style="color: #ff6600;">When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point.</span> To see the world through grey is spleen, depression. </p> <p>Grey is the subject. Grey day, grey wall, grey snow, grey world. Even I have been touched by a stroke of grey, a faint touch, but enough to cover both my eyes. <span style="color: #ff6600;">When, and from afar, will a wild goose come flying, a gentle breeze blowing, to cast away the grey, cast away this cover from my eyes? But as it comes, I see it in the distance as grey point, and I am thinking, it is a grey point.</span> To see the world through grey is spleen, depression. </p>
<p>天怎么可以这么低,压的人忘记呼吸,我们驻足房间,被困在原地。一天,两天,等待救援,等待阳光的脸色不在苍白。一年,两年,我们等着。须鬓皆白,我们等着。住入棺材,我们等着。难道我们就只能等着,等着看着,时间老了,世界花了,家依旧还是灰色。</p>  
<p>我想救我,救我离开牢笼,我也想救人,救人成就英雄,万众瞩目。可是,可是我是谁呢?太过渺小,毕竟那是霾,灰色的霾。我一人的反抗,又们能掀起多大的风浪,一缕还是一毫。</p>  
<p>坐着,看着,等着。不,我不要这样,我们总该做点什么,那怕是鼓起腮帮子,拼命的向外面吹气也好。或许我能可以吹散那淡淡灰色,吹开那薄薄的纱。其实,我知道,那只是奢望,可是,就算没有实现,但是我做过了,我们做过了。总是做了点什么,没有在那坐着,看着,等着。</p>  
<p>我怀念,怀念曾经冬天的味道。那是阳光的味道,天上的阳光以及地上的阳光。还有寒冷的味道,那如刀似的寒冷,一次次的刮割鼻腔内的汗毛。那是我怀念的味道。</p>  
<p>我好久没有感觉到它的味道了,即使偶尔阳光冲破屏障,透过窗照到我的脸上。我也只是隔着窗去感受,感受暖暖的味道。本该剔透的玻璃,蒙上一层薄薄的灰色,我怕了,真的怕了。见到灰色,我无措。</p>  
<p>其实我想逃离,我又能逃离去那里,毕竟生活还要继续。一根线被系在那个桩子上,我就只能在那个圈里磨磨。让我跳出那个圈子,放掉一切,说实话,我没有那个勇气,即使我本来就没有什么。</p>  
<p>霾,那个灰色纱,改变了好多好多东西。我只是想,我们该做点什么了,让世界变回去,变回我们曾经熟悉的样子。这难吗?这好难,好难。</p>  
  <p>How can the sky be so low, the pressure so high that people forget to breathe, we’re stopped in our step, trapped where we are. One day, two days waiting for rescue, waiting for the face of the sun not to be pale. One day, two days, we wait. When our temples are grey, we will still be waiting. When we enter the coffin, we will still be waiting. Is it that we can only wait, wait and see, for time to get old, for the world to be spent, for homes to get old and grey? </p>
  <p>I want to escape, escape from the prison, and I also want to rescue people, rescue people and become a hero, become beloved by the millions. However, who am I? I'm too small, after all, this is just haze, grey haze. My personal resistance, no matter how big a wave it raises, will only be a ray, a stroke. </p>
  <p>Sitting, watching, waiting. No, I don't want this, we always have to do something, even if it's just push on our cheeks and desperately blow out. Or maybe I can blow the grey away, blow away that thin yarn. In fact, I know this is just wishful thinking, but even if it doesn't achieve anything, at least I've done it, we've done it. As long as we do something, we won't be just sitting, watching, waiting. </p>
  <p>I miss things, I miss the smell of previous winters. This was a taste of the sun, the sun in the sky and the sun on earth. And there was the taste of cold, that knife-like cold, adding cut to inside my nose, that is the taste I miss. </p>
  <p>It's been long since I last tasted it, even if occasionally the sun breaks through the barrier and shines on my face through the window. I can only feel it through the window, feel its warm taste. The glass now has a layer of gray at the surface, and I'm afraid, really afraid. When I see the gray, I can't do anything. </p>
  <p>In fact, I want to escape, when I escape and go there, life will continue. A line has been tied to the stake, and I can only go in a grinding circle. Jump out of the circle, let go of everything? To be honest, I don't have that courage, I haven't actually ever had any. </p>
<p>我生活在这个年代,赶上了这段岁月。物质生活丰富的同时,它们也给我带来了它们的附属品。承受,我们要承受这代价。或许,10年,或许20年,或许,我们看不见。蓝色高高的天,白色无染的雪。我真的希望,让孩子们看一眼,看一眼那样的世界。就如同我看过一眼一样,世界是那么的醇粹,没有灰色的,灰色的纱曼。曾经天天如此,那不是偶然。</p> <p>Haze, that gray yarn, has changed many many things. I'm only thinking, what we should do now, we should bring the world back, back to the way we once knew it. Is this hard? It is hard, so hard. </p>
  <p>I live in this era, the years are rushing past. Material life is rich, and brings me all its accessories. Bear, we must bear the price of it. In 10 years perhaps, or in 20, we won't be able to see. The tall blue sky, the immaculate snow. I really hope that our children will be able to see it, cast their eyes on this world. Just like I was able to see it, the world this way is so intoxicating, without grey, without the grey yarn. Once it's how it was every day, not once in a while. </p>

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