If Wenjie doesn’t know how to use a computer, she still retains the oldest way of writing-when she wants to modify, use scissors to cut off the white The paper is neatly pasted in place with glue. It is conceivable that this made her translation slower and slower. When Wen Jie was young, if she had a record of translating 30,000 words in 6 days, she now counts peas one by one. For example, on December 23, the day before Christmas Eve, she In the calendar, I wrote down the amount of work completed that day, “one page, 400 words”. This article from the micro-channel public number: span> Guyu Laboratory – Tencent News (ID: guyulab) span> , Author: Zhang Rui , Editing: Sugar Maple, Photography: He Anli, Head Picture from: Original Picture Courtesy
1. The meaning of slowness
Ms. Wen Jieruo is 93 years old. She gets up at six o’clock every day and starts work at eight o’clock. The desk is in the corner of the living room window. There are manuscript paper, scissors, glue, magnifying glass, two table lamps, and a dozen pens in a paper box. There are two layers of soft white felt on the table. For the elderly, it is always good to reduce the coldness and feel a little bit. Wen Jie if her back bends into a bow shape, her whole body appears to collapse. She was short-sighted and stubbornly not wearing glasses. One eye even exceeded 1000 degrees. When she leaned toward the desk, the aging woman gave people a sense of desperation, as if she was about to dive toward the desk.
She can’t hold the pen anymore. It may be because of aging, it may be because after more than 70 years of holding the pen, her index finger has been deformed and bent. Now she buckles the pen in the mouth of her right hand and uses her thumb I resisted the root and dragged out the words one by one on the square manuscript paper, and the written words appeared awkwardly skewed, which was very different from the handwriting when I was young. But these are not a problem after driving lightly. Starting to work at eight in the morning, and turning on the lamp when it is dark, Wen Jieruo works until eight in the evening.
She is doing translation. How many Japanese documents have you translated? She also can’t remember. Of course the works of the famous Kawabata Yasunari and Akutagawa Ryunosuke have been translated, and the lesser-known authors such as Miura Ayako and Sata Inako can also list a bunch. In the 40 years of working at People’s Literature Publishing House, she translated Japanese left-wing writers in the Red Age, and translated authors who believe in humanism or Christianity in the new era. Now, 30 years have passed since her retirement. The translation has never stopped. Now, she has become the person who has translated the most Japanese literature in China.
If Wen Jie doesn’t know how to use a computer, she still retains the oldest way of writing-when she wants to make changes, she uses scissors to cut off white paper the size of her fingernails, and glues them neatly on the original place. It is conceivable that this made her translation slower and slower. If Wenjie had a record of translating 30,000 words in 6 days when she was young, she now counts peas one by one, such as December 23, Christmas Eve. The day before, she wrote down the amount of work completed that day on the calendar, “one page, 400 words”.
If calculated in terms of manuscript fee, as one of the most outstanding translators in China, her manuscript fee is 80 yuan for a thousand characters. The 8-hour translation for this day is a total of 32 yuan.
“It’s boring to count money.” The old man said.
While burying her head in translation, Wen Jieruo will hum a brisk tune. You ask her what she sings. Sometimes she will say that she didn’t sing anything, and sometimes she will sing the lyrics to you.
亀(かめ)よ亀さんよ (turtle, tortoise)
子がめ (Little Turtle)
どうしてそんなにのろいのか! (Why are you so slow!)
This is a Japanese nursery rhyme created in 1901. Wen Jieruo’s father worked as a diplomat in Japan for 20 years during the Republic of China. She attended a Japanese elementary school for four years, and she learned Japanese and nursery rhymes at that time. The theme of the nursery rhyme is the tortoise and the hare race, which means to be diligent and not slack. For Wen Jieruo’s old people, there is another meaning: When young, everyone thinks that they are always swift rabbits. Only when they are old can they understand the meaning of slowness.
At a slow pace, Wen Jieruo in 2020 is translating Osamu Dazai. The publisher was dissatisfied with the original translation and asked her to retranslate it. At the beginning of the year, I was translating “Disqualification in the World”. In the middle of the year, it was “Beautiful Man and Cigarette” and “Harlequin’s Flower”. At the end of the year, it became “Farewell”. She crawled on the desk day after day, and a thick pile of manuscript paper accumulated.
But she doesn’t like Osamu Dazai, “I want to commit suicide.” She curled her lips, the old man didn’t like decadent men. And always dragging a woman to die together makes her feel courageous.
She likes the Japanese female writer Miura Ayako, who suffers from a variety of terminal illnesses and is called the “disease expo”. She lies on a hospital bed and writes dictatedly. As an old man who will live for a century, she appreciates the tenacious vitality. So outside of Osamu Dazai, even if there is no publishing house to take over, she began to organize the “Green Thorns” by a female author by herself. At the age of 93, she translated five books successively.
She has a good impression of “Farewell”, which is a novel based on Lu Xun, and her husband was once one of Mr. Lu Xun’s 16 coffin bearers.
If Wen Jie is the wife of the late writer and reporter Mr. Xiao Qian. In 1983, they moved into a two-bedroom and one-living room in this simple tower outside Fuxing Gate, as the government reimbursed housing after the “Cultural Revolution”. In the early 1990s, Long Yingtai came to visit them. Before leaving Beijing, the writer told his friends that one of the saddest things in Beijing was seeing two old people having to spend their old age in such a house. At that time, Xiao Qian was 80 years old and Wen Jieruo was 63. According to Xiao Qian’s level, they could actually move to the “Minister Building” across the street, but Xiao Qian was unwilling, and Wen Jieruo followed him. Ten years later, Xiao Qian passed away, and Wen Jieruo lived in this house for another 20 years.
When Xiao Qian was still alive, visitors from the family were always in an endless stream. Cultural celebrities, young scholars, and biographers all came to look for her husband. Compared with her husband and his peers, she is the one who brings youthful breath. It was a happy and lively time. A TV reporter took down the visit:
Mr. Xiao said to Mr. Wen, “Jeruo, put on your beautiful clothes!” Mr. Wen immediately ran back to the bedroom, put on a brightly colored top with tassels, and wiped it. Lipstick.
After Xiao Qian’s death, the number of visitors who used to be in an endless stream was much less, and the house became deserted. She bid farewell to her husband’s “things outside” with an unproblematic attitude. Xiao Qian’s manuscripts, letters, and photos were handed over to the library. Inner Mongolia University built a Xiao Qian Literature Museum. She invited them to come to the house to select memorabilia. The latter came to Beijing and used a truck to drag it away. The car is like moving, including the bicycle Xiao Qian brought back from England. She even donated all the sounds in this room except herself: Xiao Qian’s radio, record player, and even TV.
She lives in it alone, accompanied by translators and books. When the house is old, she is also old. Four-dimensional silence, only writing sounds. In a long life, this is probably the only twenty years in which no one could say a word to her all day. Her husband passed away, and most of her relatives were dead, children Far abroad, she lives alone. An old friend in her youth, the 101-year-old “Wuthering Heights” translator, Mr. Yang Yi, lives in Nanjing. She told the younger generation that she was most worried about Wen Jieruo, “because she can’t cook.”
She devotes all her energy to her work. People who come to visit will always be shocked by the mess in the room. There are books everywhere, as well as on the ground, often giving people the feeling that they have nowhere to go. She has three old refrigerators, only one can be used, and the other two were purchased in the 1980s and 1990s. Her books and manuscript paper are also stored in the freezer. She tortuously walked through the encirclement of books and books, shattered and silent, like an elderly cat that can still be elegant.
“I had a good time alone.” Wen Jieruo said, “There is still a translation to do.”
Things changed. In August 2020, she went downstairs to fetch the newspaper. When she returned home, the key had been inserted into the keyhole, but she suddenly fell over and her right hand had a fractured bone. She endured it for a day, and had to go to the hospital the next day, and wasted a day’s work. On the calendar, she wrote down the reason for the day’s leave of absence with her left hand obliquely: Go to the hospital.
Second, she continues to work alone and continues to catch up with the sun
Auntie Guo, the babysitter, has more than ten years of experience in caring for the elderly, and this is the first time I met Mrs. Wen. She still has a cast in her hand, so she needs to help her look through the dictionary. Seeing her hand is inconvenient, thinking whether she wants to feed, the old man protested first, “Give me the chopsticks.” She held the plaster, worried that it would become waste.
Aunt Guo thinks that the old lady is a proud person. The last person she looked after was an old man who lived alone. The children came to give things to the old man, and asked her to go downstairs to fetch them but not upstairs. When she returned, the old man would commit suicide. But this is not the case with the old lady, always speaks softly without getting annoyed, but she refuses to give anyone a chance to belittle. Aunt Guo heard that the street would provide welfare to the elderly. As long as the leg is inconvenient, it will cost 500 yuan a month. She suggested to the old lady to use a wheelchair to push her to get the money.
“I said I would push you to show up.” Aunt Guo said with a smile, “She is determined not to do it.”
For the old lady’s daily desk, Aunt Guo prefers to describe it as “homework.” Lie down there every day, twist a lamp, and call to ask about progress. Isn’t it like a student doing homework?
Now, even Aunt Guo knows, “There are two drafts, the publisher is in a hurry, and they are all over.”
At the age of 93, Wen Jieruo finally accepted the reality and had a babysitter. After she got her hands up, she continued to translate, Aunt Guo was sitting on the old sofa in the living room, swiping her mobile phone. When they were tired of writing, they chatted. If Wen Jie is not interested in the short topics of her parents, she can’t figure out the lively current affairs, even if she asks, she feels silly, and everything she can grasp becomes the “past”. In order to make the chat more smooth, she also showed Xiao Qian’s biography to Aunt Guo, who turned over before going to bed, but fell asleep after flipping through it.
“My English name is Maggie, and my name is Tom Xiao Gan, because there is a novel written by George Sang, and there is a pair of siblings called this name in it, and we also match.” On a winter afternoon, the old man started Looking through the memories, it’s like taking out candy from the pocket of old times.
She rarely talks about herself, she always talks about her husband. On the one hand, it is due to habit. Even after the death of her husband, most of the people who come to the house are to listen to Xiao Qian’s story. People are more interested in her husband than in her, and she already knows it well.
On the other hand, she feels from the bottom of her heart that she has nothing to say about her life, “I have nothing great, Xiao Qian is interesting. Qian Zhongshu said he is talented, but he can say nothing about me. I didn’t say, I don’t remember if I have seen it.” When you say that, you won’t feel any dissatisfaction in her tone. Her husband is talented, she can’t match it. He is the protagonist and she is a supporting role, but this does not prevent her from having the pleasure of not taking work as hard work, like the “little turtle” in the song.
Photos in the living room
On the front wall of the living room is a black-and-white photo of Mr. Xiao Qian, which is not an old man, but a 32-year-old Xiao Qian in 1942 at Cambridge University. It was a young husband Wen Jieruo had never seen before. Under the English sun, he tilted his head and showed a mischievous smile. The photo was facing the desk, and she worked hard day after day in the smile of her husband.
The husband is seventeen years older than her. Before marrying her, she was already young and famous. He is a student of Edgar Snow, who wrote “Red Stars Shining on China”, and has a teacher-student friendship with Shen Congwen, andJin is a close friend, and Bing Xin calls him “biscuits”, and Qian Zhongshu praises him for his talent. He has published novels, translated novels, worked as a teacher at Fudan University, and was the only Chinese journalist on the battlefields of Western Europe in World War II. He ran into Hemingway in Paris. People’s impression of him at the time was, “Mrs. Yang’s arm was slung in his left hand, a foreign dog in his right hand, a suit and shoes, and his mouth was full of foreign words.”
In 1949, people from Cambridge University came three times to urge Xiao Qian to go to England. “It was Foster(E·M·Foster, British writer) who helped Xiao Qian go to England. Someone told after the Cultural Revolution We, in the Cambridge Xiao Qian’s archives, there is a sentence “Xiao Qian is in danger”(Hsiao Chien is in danger).” Wen Jie If Foster puts friendship above everything else, he said to Xiao Qian, “If I make a choice between friendship and the motherland, I will choose friendship.” But the husband is another type, a Chinese intellectual. He wrote an enthusiastic report for the “Land Reform”, “The Land Back Home”, which was translated into many languages and can also be regarded as a “self-revolution” of an intellectual in the new society.
Later, of course it was more than two decades of gusts and rains, which wasted half a lifetime. For Wen Jieruo, this is a testament to the unpredictable fate: If not, she and Xiao Qian would not have met.
They got married through translation. In the early 1950s, with a double ponytail, she was a young editor who had just joined the job. She asked Xiao Qian for a translation problem, and the latter gave her a proper answer. She wrote a letter to praise the other party’s extraordinary accomplishments, inadvertently “achievement” was written as “fat”, Xiao Qian laughed when he saw it, Yo, I’m fat enough, and then “fat” can still be done.
When they got married in 1954, there was already a tendency for the rain to come. She is a “nerd” plus a “workaholic” who doesn’t hear things outside the window. On the wedding night, the bride is still looking at the proof under the light. Xiao Qian said to his wife, You seem to have come to this world to do translation.
In the first thirty years of marriage with Xiao Qian, it seemed to have fallen into a sea of bitterness. When the two climbed ashore in embarrassment, they were both old. Ba Jin once wrote to them, and the letter was filled with unstoppable sorrow:
I am a useless person. If I could write, writing two thousand words a day, that would be great.
Wen Jieruo said that she sometimes dreamed of her husband over the years, but it was not the youthful Xiao Qian in the photo in the living room, but the gray-haired old man she was most familiar with.
“He was sitting here at the desk, silent, as if waiting for you to finish talking so he could continue working.” Wenjieruo laughed, “In my dream, he is alive anyway. . Still working.”
They are not reconciled after their lives have been half-worn meaninglessly. When the decision was made to translate the “Ulysses” known as the “Book of Heaven”, Xiao Qian was 80 years old and Wen Jieruo had just retired a month ago. The publisher’s first preferred translator was Qian Zhongshu. The latter replied, “Eighty delinquents, and then come from looking for troubles and sufferings, it’s like committing suicide in a new way.”
In the beginning, Xiao Qian didn’t want to. It was Wen Jieruo who wanted to “ask for trouble”.
“I want to read, mainly for his consideration. He wrote life memoirs, literary memoirs, and emotional memoirs at the time. I thought, it was nothing more than that he was getting better with Sylvia again, and he didn’t dare to divorce the previous one. I’m afraid she will jump into the river. I don’t mean much. I said that you might as well translate a big thing when you repeat yourself.” Wen Jieruo also maintained a straightforward temper until she was old.
In the article, Xiao Qian said that he agreed, because Wen Jieruo was afraid that she would be so tired that she would translate by herself and make people laugh.
For five years, an old couple woke up at five o’clock every day to work. Wen Jie, if the main translator, turned a chapter to her husband for revision, and stipulated that he would not turn a page of the original text every day and not sleep. Many mornings, when Xiao Qian wanted to sleep more, Wen Jieruo stood by the bed and counted “1, 2, 3”. They looked for annotations in Old English and inspiration from “Jin Ping Mei”. The process was as arduous as having brain cells line up to commit suicide, but then they said that it was the happiest five years for two people together.
A pair of elderly people do their best to catch up with time, like a race against the sun. Until one of them reached the destined end.
“Xiao Qian wants to write until the last day.” Now recalling the past, the 93-year-old Wen Jie said softly, “He still held a pen before he fell into a coma, so he did it.”
In the next twenty years, she will continue to work alone and continue to catch up with the sun.
Book EditorLi Ruohong felt that Teacher Wen was really old, it was the day after her 90th birthday. He came to visit that day, and Wen Jieruo, who was lying in front of the bookcase, raised her head and asked him, “Is the word’true’ three horizontal or two horizontal?” She forgot.
In the past, if Wen Jie always went downstairs by herself, the post office and the bank were outside the community. She went to get the letter to get her pension by herself. Now, she gets nervous when she walks outside the building. Sometimes Li Ruohong accompanies her, and the old man is tight. Pulling his sleeve.
“She wouldn’t be like this before.” Li Ruohong said, especially after a hand injury, “I felt that she might be aging slowly.”
Of course, from a physiological point of view, Wen Jieruo has been thirty years old. But in the past, even if the door lock was broken, she accidentally locked her home alone, she was able to deal with it easily. People around didn’t think she was old, or she was not really “old” yet. After all, what we mean by “oldness” not only refers to the growth of age, but also refers to a state of “powerlessness” born from the heart, unable to cope with one’s own life, unable to resist external intrusions, and powerless. Protecting oneself is a kind of “weakness” that is both physical and psychological.
In recent years, in her body, there have been two Wenjieruo who go hand in hand: One is Wenjieruo who is wise and hardworking. She has extraordinary energy and profound knowledge. One’s mistakes can’t be tolerated; the other is Wen Jieruo, who is not so wise and somewhat dull. She is kind and credulous, so she is always deceived.
There was a scam in the name of her husband. Someone told her that because Xiao Qian participated in World War II, she could be awarded a medal. She walked with people happily. Without the medal, she was confused and turned into seeing her doctor. To buy medicine, the medicine cost thirty-two thousand. She didn’t have the money, so the scammer followed her home. She looked for it over and over again, found one thousand yuan, and gave it to others. Of course, she didn’t have the medicine.
There is also the simplest scam. The scammer comes to her door and says that she can pay her landline phone bill, so she doesn’t have to go to the business hall. She handed it three hundred yuan to the other party, keeping an eye on it, and asked the other party to sign the receipt, but when they left, she stared at the 1000-degree myopia before looking at it. They just drew on white paper.People found a stack of love letters written to the owner of the attic eighty years ago. The writer is her second sister.
On Wen Jieruo’s desk, there has always been a picture of the young family. At that time her father was still a diplomat in Japan, and their family lived in Japan. In the photo, there are parents, eldest sister, third sister, fourth sister, two younger brothers and myself. But there is no second sister. Because when Wen Jieruo was 7 years old, the 19-year-old second sister eloped with the owner of the attic and her teacher. In a rage, the father broke the father-daughter relationship with his second daughter by publishing in the newspaper, and the family moved to Japan. When I was in Japan, I received news of my second sister’s death. Before her death, her second sister gave birth to a baby girl.
In that pile of old letters, the second sister asked her lover:
You said I lived a few dozen years old? I don’t want to be like an old lady, the older you are, it will be boring. I don’t know what it would be like if I were thirty or forty years old.
Wen Jieruo gave this stack of love letters to a familiar editor and asked him to publish it as a book. So in the new century, when the “fifth sister” of the year had become an old lady, the forever young second sister became the author of a book.
The niece, the baby girl of the year, hurriedly questioned her, “Why did you publish without my consent?” The owner of the attic never married the second sister, and he remarried later. He was the elder of the Chinese Department of Peking University. director.
“I told you, would you agree?” Wen Jieruo said, “I believe that your father hid these letters in the attic, not wanting you to burn them.”
Wen Jieruo told the editor that she didn’t want the manuscript fee, and only asked him to give herself two hundred books from the second sister. From then on, for every visitor, she gave them one copy. After the two hundred copies were sent out, she bought another two thousand copies.
Son Xiao Tong painted: Xiao Qian is lying on the bed, Wen Jie if she is translating alone, her childhood family portrait in her mind
Wen Jieruo was born in a scholarly family in 1927. His grandfather was a scholar of the Qing Dynasty and bought a whole courtyard house in Beiping. She and her four sisters splashed water in the yard and skated on their own when winter came. In the old days, the daughters of the Wen family received the best education. Except for the second sister who died before finishing high school, the four sisters all went to college.
Nowadays, the aging Wen Jieruo likes to recall several older sisters in a boastful tone. The eldest sister is the only literary daughter who can write novels. The novel was published in the “Guo Wen Weekly”. Later, I learned that the editor at the time was her husband Xiao Qian. The second sister was naturally the most romantic and courageous to learn French. She did not hesitate to love her. Breaking with the family; the third sister is the most unrestrained, she rides a bicycle to school, wears a beret, and was admitted to Fu Jen Catholic University because of her excellent grades; the fourth sister looks the most like herself, but the fourth sister is a genius and speaks foreign languages , Can also speak Latin, can play the piano and compose.
But later, the five sisters who were once separated, the eldest sister went to a foreign country alone, and no longer wrote novels; the second sister died early, and no photo was left; the fourth sister was full of disillusionment in her life because of the death of the second sister She entered the monastery at a young age, and died at the age of 22; the third sister broke her leg at the age of 19 and lay on the bed for 17 years. When she was able to stand up, her youth disappeared.
After the death of the third sister, Wen Jieruo knew that like the second sister, the third sister had a lover. But when my father found out, the family turned upside down, and the two broke off contact. Then, the third sister’s leg broke, and the lover turned to the army, and there was no intersection in life. When the two met again, it was already a classmate meeting half a century later. My sweetheart was full of children and grandchildren, but the third sister had not been married for a lifetime.
“I am the dumbest person in the family.” Wenjieruo said, this is not humility. If she has more achievements than her sisters, it is only because she has been alive and can continue to work hard. This is her luck. “To live” is resistance and hope, and “to live” is luck, and it also means the obligation to go all out.
After Xiao Qian woke up from suicide, she said, “We must outlive them all.” She really thought so, as long as she didn’t die. It is also a kind of dignity to live like a grass, but also as sweet as a child’s gluttony honeypot. She practiced it personally. This is also a kind of dignity. The longer you live, your life will be full of farewells, which is also unthinkable. The husband is gone, she is the only one of the five sisters. She missed them in her own way. She compiled Xiao Qian’s complete works, published a book for her second sister, published her translation under the name of her third sister, and named her granddaughter Sophie, which was also her sister’s name.
The best way to miss it is naturally to continue working.
After Wen Jieruo’s hand fell, the staff of the publishing house’s veteran office ran up and asked her if she wanted to find a nursing home to ensure that the best was selected, but the latter firmly refused.
“I’m not going.” Wen Jieruo said, “I ask what are you doing inside, saying that I play the piano, sing and dance, and do aerobics. I just do this. I don’t do any work. How can I do? To work.”
Moreover, the old man has another worry, “What if the people inside come to me for books? I can’t offend them all.”
So Aunt Guo came to visit. On the first day, I ran into a neighbor in the same building. The neighbor told her that you have to leave if you can’t stay for three days. Because the old lady was living too hard, she didn’t even have a TV at home. If Wen Jie is not convinced after knowing it, she said to Aunt Guo, why are you doing three days? You will stay with me for thirty years.
“Haha, it may not be realistic to live another thirty years.” Wen Jie said that she laughed, “but twenty years is fine.”
Many people who have visited her have heard the old lady say that she will live to be 113 years old. She has already planned and translated to 100 years old. Then she estimated that her brain is not enough, and then she started writing memoirs. Others reminded her euphemistically that she can write a pen now, and she never gets moved.
As a 93-year-old man, Wen Jieruo has an excellent body. Editor Li Ruohong will accompany her to the medical examination every year, except for the eyes, there is no problem at all. Until now, she can squat down tremblingly and pick up a book in her freezer.
This is the source of her confidence, She has a posture that must live to life.
In the past twenty years, Wen Jieruo said that she never felt lonely. Unlike ordinary old people, she yearns for the company of her family as she grows old. After Xiao Qian’s death, she originally promised to go to the United States where her children live, but that year”911″ happened, which gave her an excuse not to go. She told her son that the plane she was flying in must have fallen off.
But is there no loneliness at all? Li Ruohong said that there might still be some, but she just didn’t show it. For example, if someone wants to interview her, she will be happy, at least someone will speak with her. Although she did not take the initiative to call her children, she was also happy when she received their calls. This year, she read the newspaper every day to care about the US epidemic. She didn’t want them, just didn’t want to leave this old house and leave her job.
“She does not believe that she can do what she does in China overseas. I guess she is more afraid of losing all kinds of contact, language environment, and becoming an irrelevant’ordinary person’. So far, she has handwritten each one stroke by stroke. The tiny prints are mistakenly wiped with eraser correction fluid or cut off with scissors and re-attached with glue. It is the same as half a century ago. I want to teach her to type and refuse to learn. We can’t oppose her choice, and I have nothing to say. Use.” Later in the interview, I contacted Wen Jieruo’s son Mr. Xiao Tong. He went to the United States in the 1980s and is now a professor in the Department of Art at August Stanford University in the United States.
Mr. Xiao Tong wrote in the e-mail, “Even if the mother has that kind of old man’s commonness, she rarely says it. She doesn’t seem to care that she has grandchildren and refuses to let her children or the third generation occupy her time. Except for her unscientific self-confidence in her health and longevity, she does not boast. Others get sick or even die from her as if it is discouraged and a failure. That day will never be her turn, she will live longer than all the people who live longer. A record of her original work until she is old. She seems to be in a contest with people—both the living and the deceased—to prove to the elders and sisters who died early to prove the value of her ranking in the “Little Five”.”
Xiao Tong said, My mother’s life is a life of hard work. She used to devote all her energy to her husband and family, and now she wants to dedicate her work, “I believe it’s true that her mother said she doesn’t feel lonely. Her mother is a Confucianist and a Catholic. ‘One body.”
So, nothing can stop Wen Jieruo from continuing to work hard. The calendar for the previous year is full, and she is starting a new work record on the 2021 calendar. She threw herself into it, achieving peace and happiness.
In her most satisfied translation work, the Japanese novel “Five-storied Pagoda”, she once expressed the author’s exclamation in beautiful language:
One of the people is born and decayed with the grass and trees. All coincidences are nothing more than glimpses of light. Even if you regret nostalgia, in the end, it will be the spring and spring to go, drowning and hurting the soul.
What should I do?
Neither looking back on my past nor thinking about my future… In this world where the sound of the cock and the dog are heard, the owner rejoices, and the west is reporting funerals, I can’t be distracted at all, just Work desperately.
This article is from WeChat official account:Guyu Lab-Tencent News (ID: guyulab)< / span> , author: Zhang Rui span> p>