Original text of "Song of the Night"

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Those who love the night are not just lonely. Those who are idle, those who cannot fight, those who are afraid of the light.

People's words and deeds often appear different during the day and at night, under the sun and in front of the lamp. Night is a mysterious celestial garment woven by nature, covering all people, making them warm and at ease. Unknowingly, I gradually take off the man-made masks and clothes, and wrap myself naked in this boundless black wadding-like mass. inside.

Although it is night, there are also lights and darks. There's twilight, there's darkness, there's darkness, there's darkness. Those who love the night must have ears to listen to the night and eyes to see the night, be comfortable in darkness, and see all darkness. Gentlemen walked into the dark room from under the electric light and stretched out their legs; lovers walked into the shade of the trees from under the moonlight, and their eyes changed. The fall of night has wiped out all the detached, hazy, sudden, sudden and brilliant articles written by scholars of letters on the dazzling white paper in broad daylight, leaving only begging for mercy, flattering, lying, deceiving, and bragging. The mischievous night air formed a brilliant golden halo, like one seen on a Buddhist painting, covering the mind of extraordinary knowledge.

Those who love the night accept the light given by the night.

The modern girl with high heels walked vigorously under the electric lights on the side of the road, but there was also a little oily sweat on the tip of her nose, proving that she was a beginner in fashion. , will make her encounter the fate of "downfall". The dimness of a row of closed shops helped her, causing her to slow down her power and take a breath. At this moment, she felt the refreshing cool breeze of the night.

People who love night and modern girls receive the blessings of night at the same time.

The night was over, and people got up cautiously and came out again; even the couples looked completely different from what they had been before five or six o'clock. From then on it was lively and noisy. But behind the high walls, in the middle of the building, in the boudoir, in the dark prison, in the guest room, and in the secret agency, there is still an astonishing real darkness.

In today's broad daylight, bustling with people, it is this dark decoration, the golden lid on the human meat sauce jar, and the alabaster on the ghost's face. Only Ye is honest. I love the night and compose "Ode to the Night" at night.

1933, June 8