读完郁达夫的《故都的秋》,自小在四季如春的南海之滨长大的我,无法切身体会那“来得清,来得静,来得悲凉”的北国的秋,是如何吸引千里之外的作者,是如何让作者愿意把寿命的三分之二折去,换抵一个三分之一的零头。然而,轻触作者的笔锋,异地的我依然可以看到那一缕缕浓浓的秋思乡情伴着别具风味的秋景跃然纸上。 After reading Yu Dafu’s “Autumn’s Fall,” I grew up growing up on the seashore of the South China Sea that was spring-like. I couldn’t understand how the autumn of the Northland, “come clear, quiet, and desolated”, attracted thousands of miles. How did the author outside the author make the author willing to discount two-thirds of his life in exchange for a fraction of a third. However, by touching the author’s pen tip, I can still see the deep autumn homesickness accompanied by the unique autumn scenery on the paper.