我因为寂寞,所以读书。东坡云:“岁行尽矣,风雨凄然,纸窗竹屋,灯火青荧,时于此间,得少佳趣。”如今正是六月天,到岁末还早,住在水泥楼房的二十层上,电灯开着总嫌太热。但读至此节,少年时在油灯下看书的情景立刻重现在眼前。那昏黄但裹着一层蓝青色焰的冉冉跳动的灯火,灯火下那几行刚好看得清的大字,偶尔抬头所见投射在墙壁上的自己的影子……这些早已成为遥远的过去的东西,一下子又显得亲近起来,于是我的心情便渐觉清凉,电灯也好像不那么逼人了。 I read because of my loneliness. Dongpo Yun said: “Your journey is as good as it gets. There are wind and rain, paper windows and bamboo huts, and the lights are green. At this time, there is less fun.” It is now June and it is still early at the end of the year and two people live in concrete buildings. On the tenth floor, the lights are always too hot. However, reading this section, the scene of juvenile reading under the lamp immediately reappeared. The dizzy but battered lanterns wrapped in a blue-blue flame, the few lines under the lights that were just visible, the shadows that occasionally looked up and were projected on the walls. These have long since become distant things. All of a sudden, it seemed close to each other, so my mood gradually cooled, and the electric light seemed less pressing.