夜好深,夜好静,夜好清凉。夜窗外,纱帽山在月光下显得微明而深蓝。我着手翻译的《夜航》也正好接近尾声,在静静的月夜。一掷笔,H.G.Wells 的“时间机器”却逆看时流而上,把我载向一段遥远的岁月。那时,我客居在庙寺林立,凤花似火的东方水市,以贵妇人之姿。在没完没了的鸡尾酒会里、在华筵上,男人总是谈政治,女人老是话家常。我既不政治,又不 Good night, good night, cool night. Outside the night window, yarn hat mountain appears twilight in the moonlight and dark blue. I started translating “night flight” is just coming to an end, quiet moonlit night. At one stroke, H.G.Wells’ “Time Machine” turned against the stream and took me to a distant time. At that time, I settled in the temples everywhere, Fengsiaohehuo the East Water City, the dame posture. In the endless cocktail party, in the Chinese feast, men always talk about politics, women are always talkative. I am neither political nor