I always go to

I always go to that stretch of river shoal with Jian Jia, sit on the grass of the oil of oil, sometimes see that makes people's soul shake the shade of Yi in the limpid river, see that hide mother sky of soul, we centre of the palm slip too big loud clouds of one sometimes, slipped and has and can not catch suitably like the brocade in water, but we caught desperately, behind which cloud is hidden, all of us firmly believe soul is the transmission that will never die out because mother's soul is not known, though has lost lifelike adhering to, will still smile towards us on the pale cloud, smile. So I pour out and is written down this magnificently as intact and true as possible, report and give Jian Jia to hear.        
Jian Jia both hands tuck, like a child failing to grow up forever, but when I see her side face accidentally, find she is no longer that girl that childishness has not been taken off, thin thin red lip, pale skin, misted eyes. The limpid river has leaked my secret too, I saw the smile of Jian Jia, the chin has already had a hairy layer to see oneself unconsciously, Adam's apple has been obvious gradually, the pitch-dark pupil has been formed to all this impressions of the world by me.        
Among impression of me, mother one it meets to be but American if the beauty's woman, breath-taking beauty, outshine the moon and put the flowers to shame.        
In my impression, father is a resolute man, he has a Xun's happy workshop, last Xun in counter,to,the Xun one, naturally, by sneaking refinedly, non- partial between two parties. So the thick morality of the quality, sage's place!        
In my impression, Jian Jia is my only friend, I never allow someone to bully her, she will not talk, only ones that can send out are just those several fuzzy syllables, I will help her to insert the hairpin that mother has ever brought, outshine the moon and put the flowers to shame when she combs the hair.        
Among impression of me, father have one Xun, wide just a few inches of Xun, long only a palm, the empty wall of China is thick, with sharp top and round bottom. Musical instrument has been already very complete, the sound happens in it needn't draw support from other tools either, the volume is not big, intension is extremely deep.        
Transport gentle air pour into it, until Book of Sangs and the Book of History gift happy, tradition ethical thought transmit outside. Its sound is unobstructed instead of approaching, vast and far but not out-of-the-way, hard and soft and appropriate, clear and turbid and clearly demarcated. Have until work wonderful with clock and single sonorous stone, where be Yu, sheng,etc. instrumental music can with equal to? It can make the brother harmonic that Xun is happy, couple are affectionate. Assemble Engineer Yue, with " second " Chi looks and, it is the harmonious it is on friendly terms naturally; With " his Die "  Drum neither the corresponding nor soul-stirring for soul there is no Israel to compare.        
Father left me when I am 18 years old, on one's deathbed, in front of he calls us on the bed, he says shaking hands with me, the silk floss is rough, the father hopes you can look after my Xun happy workshop, Xun is the musical instrument that has sagacity all over the world most, he sets Xun handed down from one's ancestors free in my hands, he say Xun here in people, Xun lose people lose.        
Father draw Jian hand of Jia, he say she alike with mother so, he give Jian Jia the fox-fur robe overcoat that meet never, this is your mother's clothes that have and put on in the future before death, please put on for her, the silk floss is rough, you should look after the younger sister carefully, work for a good household for her.        
But you can't intergrowth sincerity,it otherwise not must condemn it.        
When father leaves away, Jian Jia has had one's face covered with tears already, but I force oneself not to fall down a drop of tears, just sink into the last sentence of father to exhort deeply, can't free oneself.        
Jian Jia and I look after that Xun's happy workshop together after father leaves away, that is father's energies of a lifetime, the memory of childhood is totally occupied by Xun's low-spirited and melodious sound.        
I feel, get Jian change of Jia constantly, she grow lovingly pathetic woman from the young girl that childishness does not take off, she smiles at each neighbour, neither humble nor pushy, her beauty has nothing to compete for with others.        
The needlework of Jian Jia is known far and wide, she embroiders one kind and calls the desolate flower of knotweed, gorgeous and incomparable.        
That year of 20 years old, I stopped all to create, I began to think that fell into an abyss by oneself, hover by the ear some incomplete melody, but unable intact his record, always pursue in the repeated twists desperately, pursue those unwarranted feelings, it is wonderful, it is unable to describe the speech.        
I think this will be a generation's Xun song definitely, it is tempered that it is just time that need, with the mental state like the stagnant water of heart.        
Jian Jia was seldom met too, we could meet only at supper, she is with one's head low, there is not any expression. This woman knits the brows to smile at, every gesture impedes me deeply, we are often hurt by the unknown thoughts and feelings, will often be sad without reason, will often walk in that stretch of river shoal hand in hand, swing the soft wicker like the gold in the wind, embroider the full shining flower that wants to burn, the beauty like tidewater, steady and deep pity on the ground, it is resisted that on friendly terms, it is good to be all quiet.        
Jian Jia is my only audience, the worry of flickering or sad Xun is happy, at that night, I am bringing her to that block of river shoal, it was befuddled that I took out the full floor of moon, one bowl give Jian Jia, one bowl give oneself. I begin to blow Xun, that " Jian Jia " that specially writes to this woman, the instant when the music begins, my health of spreading of ripples, unable to stop, I am a piece of fish unable to stop cruising, because without direction, because there is no companion, because without happiness, I some are Xun of ancient times, the melody of trickling, another one calls the woman of Jia of Jian. At this moment, she nestles in my chest, she has never opened one's mouth and said something, she is so perfect persons who listen, she likes looking up at the extravagant and wasteful sky with me, because there are soft white clouds, there is flying bird with firm wing, have dreamland with overflowing glistening light of waves.        
I put down Xun, embrace her gently, her head is buried in my chest deeply, I smell the taste that daisy and licorice root mix clearly, the long hair like her marine alga strokes haphazard my heart, her tears corrode my skin, her soul and mine is pestered tightly, the pestering of millennium, will never break up.        
The firefly around is the happiness in a twinkle, that slight unreal image lets people can not bear to hold the palm with a firm grip, and the happiness just floated far at the time of this delicate one. Look at it, still glimmers just like that, but disappear in the deep night sky after all. And we used up the life and pursued, it is exactly this fragile one, difficult to fathom, light and temperature that is suddenly bright, suddenly killed.        
The black sky hangs low