Ji Xianlin praised his mother's article: I miss my mother.
I have two mothers in my life: one is the mother who gave birth to me; One is my motherland.
I have the same high respect and sincere love for these two mothers.
I left my biological mother at the age of six and went to live in the city. I went back to my hometown twice in the middle, both for mourning. I only stayed at my mother's for a few days, but I still returned to the city. In the last eight years, when I was a sophomore, my mother gave up foster care and lived only in her forties. I cried for years, but I couldn't eat or sleep. I really want to go underground with my mother. My wish didn't come true. From then on, I became an orphan without a mother. Children who lack maternal love are people with incomplete souls. I have an incomplete soul, and I have eternal hatred. I can't stop crying for decades when I think of my mother. Now I am in a lonely town in G? ttingen, Germany. I don't know why, my mother often falls asleep.
My motherland, this is the first time I left her. I've only been away for a few months. I don't know why, but my mother often comes to sleep.
In order to preserve the true feelings at that time and avoid tampering with the feelings at that time with today's feelings, I will not describe or narrate them now, but extract a few paragraphs from my diary when I first arrived in G? ttingen:
1935165438+10/6
Soon it will be dark outside. I think tonight is the most interesting. I didn't turn on the light, just stood by the window silently, watching the dark night color weave into the sky and the opposite roof. Everything disappeared in the dim light. My heart often moves in a quiet atmosphere. This activity is slight. I had no idea there was such an activity. I feel a little sour and sad when I think of my hometown and my old friends. However, this kind of desolation is not the same as ordinary desolation. It is sweet, thick, with unspeakable taste and deeply stuck in my heart.
165438+1October 18
A few days ago, the landlady told me that her son came home from school today and she was very happy. ? But her son just didn't come, and she looked a little depressed. She added that there was another bus in the evening and maybe he would come. I saw her expression and thought of my mother lying underground in my hometown. I really want to cry! I just know now that mothers are the same at all times and in all countries!
165438+ October 20th
I really miss home now, my hometown, my friends in my hometown. I can't stand thinking sometimes.
165438+1October 28
I leaned back on the sofa and listened to the wind blowing by the window. Rain in the wind, cloudy as night. My thoughts are ups and downs, and I think of my old country again.
65438+February 6th
In recent days, my mood has been much more stable. I really thought two years was too long before; At the same time, I feel uncomfortable in all aspects of food, clothing, housing and transportation here, so it seems that I can't stand it for two years anyway.
From my diary when I first arrived in G? ttingen, I will quote these paragraphs for the time being. In fact, there are many similar places, as can be seen from these paragraphs. In short, I don't want to stay abroad. The thought of my mother and my motherland makes my heart surge, and I can't stop worrying. I'm not going to stay abroad. A few months later, in July 1936, 1 1, I wrote a short article entitled "Seeking Dreams". The first paragraph is:
I dreamed of my mother at night and woke up crying. When I woke up and tried to catch this dream again, I didn't know where it had flown.
The following describes the scene of seeing my mother in my dream. The last paragraph is:
Oh, my God won't even give me a clear dream? I looked at the gray sky with tears in my eyes and imagined my mother's face.
When I was in China, I only missed one mother, and I can only miss one mother. Now abroad, I have another mother in my memory. When I first arrived in G? ttingen, this nostalgia was very strong. It hasn't been broken since. The memories of these two mothers have been with me for ten years in Germany and eleven years in Europe.
Ji Xianlin's article praising mother: My mother.
I am a person who loves my mother the most, but I also enjoy the least maternal love. I left my mother at the age of six, and then I met her twice briefly, both because I went home to attend my own funeral. The last time I was separated for eight years, I went home to mourn. This is mother's funeral. Back to my hometown, my mother has been lying in the coffin and has never even seen the body. Since then, people have been separated forever, even the mother's face in memory has become blurred, and even the mother's true face can't be seen in dreams. I have had this dream many times in my life. Until I was over eighty, I often dreamed of my mother and always woke up crying. I am destined to be an eternal tragic figure who enjoys maternal love. What a pity! What a pity!
I have written a lot about my mother, and I don't want to repeat it here. I just want to write a little thing that I never believe is true, and I sincerely hope it is true.
While studying in Tsinghua, my mother died suddenly. I rushed back to Jinan from Beiping, returned to Qingping, and sent my mother to the grave. When I got home, all I saw was a black coffin, and my mother's face never appeared again. One night, I slept on the heatable adobe sleeping platform in the back room, and my uncle accompanied me. Uncle Ning, in a jujube forest across the hall, went straight into the house, bypassed his mother's coffin, went to the back room kang and woke me up, saying that his wife, Aunt Ning, "bumped into a guest"-we called it "bumped into a guest" there, and the guest who bumped into it was my mother. I was surprised, got up and stumbled, followed uncle Ning through the jujube forest and came to his house. Aunt Ning sat on the kang, her eyes closed, but her mouth kept talking, not her, but my mother. As soon as she saw me (or rather, she "heard me" because she didn't open her eyes), she grabbed my hand and said, "Son! You make your mother think too much! He hasn't come back to see me since he left home for eight years. " You know what your mother is like! "I can't stop poking and talking. I seem to be hit on the head, confused and at a loss. By rights, I should cry when I hear my mother's voice. However, I didn't. I seem to be awake again. Subconsciously, I have been asking myself: Is this possible? Is it true?/You don't say. My heart was full of ups and downs, and I was stirred into a pot of sauce. I said to "Mom": "Shit! You shouldn't have come to aunt ning! You shouldn't disturb Aunt Ning! " My own voice reached my own ears, empty and indifferent. However, I can't help it. My little "science" played a leading role. ""Mother said repeatedly, "Yes! Yes! I'm leaving. " So Aunt Ning opened her eyes and sat on the heatable adobe sleeping platform. When I got home, I found my mother's coffin lying on the heatable adobe sleeping platform, crying till dawn.
I can't believe this is true, but I hope so. After looking at her beloved only son for eight years, the mother finally "saw" him, which is a comfort. But how slim it is, what a magical comfort!
My mother will live in my memory forever.
Other classic articles recommended by Ji Xianlin: My teachers.
While I deeply miss my two absent mothers, the German teacher in front of me is becoming more and more kind and lovely.
Of course, my Doktor-Vater (the father of the doctor), Professor Waldschmitt, has the closest relationship with me among German teachers. I have talked a little about my first meeting with him. My first impression of him was that he was young. He's really not too old. When he met me, he was probably less than forty years old. He wears a thick suit and has a face like a child. Personally, I think he is polite to others. Most professors in Germany are a little bit of professors, which is determined by their social and economic status and is independent of human will. Later, I heard that his students after me thought he was very strict. It is said that a lady handed him her doctoral thesis, and he looked at it for a while, then threw it on the ground and said angrily, "DasistaberallesMist! This is all rubbish and nonsense! The young lady was so sad that she finally left G? ttingen.
I studied with him for ten years. It should be said that he has never lost his temper with me. He is patient in teaching and has a detailed Sanskrit grammar. If you don't do this, you can't do it. Single words with one more letter or one less letter often have very different meanings. I will personally teach my students in the future and follow his example. I will learn grammar by heart. His teaching method is typical of German style. I remember/kloc-ewald, a great German oriental linguist in the 9th century, once said, "Teaching languages is like teaching swimming. Take a student to the swimming pool and push him into the water. Either you learn to swim or you drown. The latter is unlikely. " Waldschmidt adopted this teaching method. Lesson 122, reading letters. From the third lesson, study and practice, and practice grammar by yourself. I was not used to it at first. I often spend a day preparing lessons. However, after more than 40 classes a semester, I finished reading the textbook of the German Vatican writer Stenzler, learned all the extremely complicated Sanskrit grammar, and read a lot of exercises selected from the original Sanskrit. This method is very successful.
Professor Waldschmidt's family should be said to be very happy at first. Husband and wife, a teenage son is in middle school. For a while, I helped him translate Chinese Buddhist scriptures, often went to his house, had dinner with his family, and then worked late into the night. Few people talk much at the dinner table, which is very quiet. Once he smiled and said to his son, "There is a guest from China at home. You will probably brag at school tomorrow? " The atmosphere in his house seems to be more serious than lively. His wife is also a quiet person.
Later, when the war broke out, he was called up himself. What kind of officer is he? Soon, his son was also drafted into the army. Not long after, from the winter of 194 1, the eastern front was deadlocked and deadlocked, but the fighting was extremely fierce. Their son was killed in a Nordic country. I have now forgotten the reaction of the couple when they heard the bad news. It stands to reason that an only child died in childhood, and their sadness can be imagined. But Professor Waldschmidt is a very strong man. He never showed any sadness in front of me, and the couple never talked to me about it. However, the lack of a lively family atmosphere has added a lonely and cold component, which is completely imaginable.
The first winter after Waldschmidt was drafted into the army, the tickets he booked for the winter performance of the Grand Theatre were not refunded. He couldn't watch the show by himself, so he asked me to accompany his wife once a week. After dinner, I went to pick up Jenny and accompany her to the theatre. There are operas, concerts, piano solos, violin solos and so on. The actors are all from other places or abroad, and they are all well-known figures. The theater is brightly lit, as bright as day; Men's clothes are straight, women are bejeweled, and there is a peaceful and peaceful atmosphere. I don't remember being attacked by air during the performance, so I don't know what happened in the stadium when enemy planes flew overhead. However, as soon as I walked out of the gate after the performance, there was a completely different world outside, with indomitable spirit and darkness. There was no light because of the power failure. I'm going to send Jenny to her home at the foot of a dark mountain where nothing can be seen. A person comes home in the middle of the night, all is silent, walking in a quiet long street, only hearing his own footsteps, but he is happy. But this is the time when homesickness is at its peak.
The second teacher I think of is Professor Siegher.
I don't know his family background. When I got to his house, I saw his wife alone, a thin and kind old man. Children or relatives, never seen. It seems to be a lonely and indifferent family, although the old couple are very loving and interdependent. He was over seventy when I met him. He is the teacher who loves me the most, has the deepest feelings and the greatest expectations among teachers from all over the world I have ever seen in my life. To this day, whenever I think of him, my heart immediately beats violently, and my eyes immediately shed a face. What he taught me has been said above, and I will talk about it later. Here, I will only talk about the deep feelings of our mentoring. In order to preserve the truth, I copied some of my diaries verbatim below:
1940 65438+ 10/0/3
I bought a photo of Professor Siegher yesterday and put it on the table, facing me. I really don't know how to thank this old gentleman. He is almost as kind as his father or grandfather. As soon as I saw his photo, I felt infinite courage in my heart. I felt that I should study Sanskrit well, or I would be sorry for him.
194 1 February 1
Come out at 5: 30 and go to Professor Siegel River's house. He wants to negotiate a raise for me, and the dean has agreed. This is really unexpected. I really don't know how to thank the old man. He was so kind to me that I will never forget it!
It turned out that he found that my life was too bad and went to the dean of literature to ask for a raise. In fact, my salary is enough, but I am poor because I buy books.
194 1 year, I tried to leave Germany for home. I wrote in my diary of 10 year129 October:
1 1: 30, Professor Sieg River goes to class. After class, I told him that I was leaving Germany, and he immediately got excited, blushed and trembled a little. He said that he would find me a fixed place in the future and let me continue to live in Germany. Unexpectedly, I want to leave. He advised me not to leave anyway, and he would try to tell Rektor (the president of the university) to let me get the allowance so that I could go out and have a rest. He almost cried. I hesitated at first, but now I am wavering. As soon as I leave Germany, who knows when I will come back or not? The old man who is as worried about himself as his father will never see him again. I used to be very emotional. I can't control myself now and really want to cry.
There are still some such things in the diary, so I won't copy them any more. Only these three, I think, have fully demonstrated our relationship. There are some things that I will talk about next time when I talk about the study of Dong Bang and Tam. Let's call it a day.
The third teacher I think of is Braun, a professor of Slavic linguistics. His father was a Slavic linguistics professor at Leipzig University. He can be said to have a family background and can speak many Slavic languages fluently. When I met him, he was still very young, not a professor. Because of his age, he was also drafted into the army. But I have never been to the first line at all, just as a translator, which is the most advanced translation. Some senior Soviet generals were captured by the Germans, and other fascist leaders had to be interrogated in person, trying to dig out super secrets from them. Professor Braun is a translator, and the importance of his task can be imagined. Whenever he comes home from vacation, he is always happy to talk to me about some tidbits he translated, many of which are the real situation of the top leadership in Germany and the Soviet Union. He told me several times that the Soviet artillery was too powerful for Germany. This is an extreme secret that Germany has never revealed, which left a deep impression on me.
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