一读圆明园,如同读一册简牍散佚的残简,断章残句,我无法标点。她原本是一篇美文,行云流水的音律,跌宕平仄的韵脚。朗之吟之,如痴如醉。读圆明园,如同一串珠玑丝裂的玉链,遗珍散珠,蒙尘染垢,我捧玉心焚。她原来是一身珠光宝气,晶莹剔透,瑞光四射。抚之玩之,如梦如幻。雨果从巴黎 Reading Yuanmingyuan is like reading a piece of simple scraps, breaking the sentence, and I cannot punctuate it. She used to be an essay, a rhythm of flowing water, and a fluctuating rhythm. Lang Zhizhi is intoxicated. Reading Yuanmingyuan, like a jade chain with the same bead and silk, precious beads, dust and dust, I am holding the heart. She was originally a pearl, crystal clear, Ruiguang shot. Touch the play, dreamy. Hugo from Paris