寒气尚重的初春,远没到满目枯荷的季节,不知怎的,心中总搁着李义山的那句诗:留得枯荷听雨声。追根溯源,源于一位叫枫林的笔友,在我去她家串门时,指着墨迹未干的宣纸让我品那句诗,手指还特地点到了那个“枯”字上。她让我品,当然是因为这句诗好。而我也知道,她一定是品出了诗间真味。 Cold spring is still heavy, far less than the full load of the season, somehow, my heart always carry Li Yishan’s poem: stay dry hear the rain. Tracing the source, from a pen pal called Fenglin, when I went to her house casually, pointing to the ink has not dried rice paper so that my article, the finger also specifically to that “dry” on the word. She made me the product, of course, because of this poem. And I also know that she must have produced the true taste of poetry.