多年以前,听蔡琴的《渡口》。那是个黄昏的雨后,院中有一棵白杨,碧绿的叶子被风一吹,沙沙作响。细雨做的和弦,听上去犹如千军万马呼啸而来。桌上的一杯热茶,袅袅的热气早已荡然无存,只一刹那,我的心便荒芜了。那是一首讲情感泅渡的老歌,纵有千般不舍,万般不忍,怎奈分离已成定局:“让我与你握别/再轻轻抽出我的手/知道思念从此生根/华年从此停顿……” Years ago, I heard Tsai Chin’s “Ferry.” It was a twilight rain, the hospital has a poplar, green leaves wind blows, rustling. The chords made of rain, it sounds like a mighty force roaring. A cup of hot tea on the table, the curl of the heat has long been gone, only a moment, my heart is barren. That is an old song about the emotion of the transition, despite the thousands of homes, could not bear to endure, the separation is a foregone conclusion: “Let me hold the hand with you / and then gently pull out my hand / Know the thoughts from rooting / Chinese From then on ... ”