在我漫长的写作生涯中,从未遇到过这种情况:提起笔来几个钟头写不下去几个字,任凭笔在半空中悬着、悬着——我有点迷茫,我是在写两条河呢?还是在写一个人?还是在写一段传奇,一缕情思?这时,处在钢筋混凝土包裹中的我却分明听到了桨声。对,是划船的桨声,那桨声是很轻悠很细微的唉乃声。对,那是江南的桨声,那是江南水乡的桨声,那是江南水乡无风无浪,无波无涛,无涟无漪的河面上的桨声。那桨声是在夜色里响起的,夜色朦胧,月色悠悠,就像一幅色调暗淡的水彩画。桨声里,又混杂着歌声。这 In my long career as a writer, I have never encountered such a situation: I can not write a few words in a few hours after my pen is penned, even if the pen hangs in the air, hanging - I am a bit confused, I am writing Two rivers? Or is writing a person? Or is writing a legend, a ray of emotion? At this time, in the reinforced concrete package, I clearly heard the paddle sound. Yes, paddle is boating, that paddle sound is very light and very subtle alas. Yes, it is the paddle sound of Jiangnan, that is the paddle sound of the Jiangnan Water Village, that is the paddle sound on the river without wind and waves, no wave no Tao, no ripple and no ripples. That paddle is sounded in the night, the night hazy, moonlight long, like a dim watercolor painting. Paddle sound, mixed with singing. This