Blade and Poetry

After running around all the way, I went back and got a good night's sleep, too tired to even have any dreams.I probably only slept for a few hours before waking up, and it was not yet noon when I woke up.It doesn't really matter if you wake up late at this time - Hoftas' last class was announced yesterday, and it's time for everyone to be happy and start preparing for the summer vacation.

I tried my best to cheer up, cleaned up my whole body, and dragged to the entrance of the theater.Unlike the emptiness I imagined, there are many people in the open space outside the theater, most of them walking around with laughter and laughter, adding bricks and tiles to a bonfire composed of firewood and haystacks.Some brought cards and sweet checkers, others brought musical instruments and food.

"Is there any activity here?" I called to a man who was unfamiliar, "It seems to be very lively."

The man said to me: "It's an official farewell party for the professors. There are quite a few professors whose contracts expired this year—it's said that they all finished their classes yesterday. Do you want to join? It starts at five o'clock, and it's still early."

I politely thanked him and went to get the keys in my pocket.

The huge doors of the theater were closed behind me, so that the laughter outside could not be heard.

I filled out an early application to rent the theater, and got the right to use it for this afternoon.The road from the gate to the stage is very long, I did not light up the main lamp hanging directly above the hall, and walked slowly in the dark.The stage lights were turned on in advance, and there was a piano under the lights.

I always thought that I didn't know what to give Karajan-I only knew that everything I had said to him was not enough to forgive.He gave me so much rescue, care and love.He is like another shadow of me in this world, we can see each other's hearts at a glance.He only needs to mention a short cryptic line, and I can immediately understand what he refers to; I only need to show him a marked page of poetry, and he can immediately explain my opinion.We criticize the current situation together, brew tea together, read and bicker together, practice knives together, and spend a long and boring lazy afternoon together.Yes, even if he has so many secrets that I don't know, even if I never tell him the story of the Sean family, it doesn't change anything.

So I thought, he should have a farewell show that comes from me and belongs only to him.

At 10:[-] minutes before [-] o'clock, my fingers were gently rolling over the keys, and it took me a long time to realize that I was repeating the Adagio part of the "Edelberg Sixth Sonata".

Five minutes before five o'clock, I stopped and walked around the edge of the stage, belatedly feeling that the stage with only the piano was too empty.There are no accessories that I can rush to prepare right now.I thought about it, and released my knife in this deserted place.The blade was attached to my fingers, and many orange petals slid down along the direction of the blade.

Thanks to his teaching, I have been able to control a certain amount of sword souls not to burn at will.

With only one minute left before five o'clock, I almost frantically decided that he might not be able to arrive on time, and might delay time at the farewell party outside the door.The pocket watch on my music stand turns its hands slowly, as if it has no connection with its owner.

I stopped practicing; so the only sound left in the vast space was the clicking of the pointer.I counted mechanically until one of them overlapped with the sound of the theater door being pushed open.Even though it was only a brief moment, a short moment of noise flowing from outside the door into the silent door, I caught Karajan's figure in the light that followed.

The door was closed, and the outside of the stage was once again plunged into darkness.He also did not go to light the main lights of the theater.

The minute hand is right above the engraved "12".I put my hands on the keys and started to play "Edelberg Sixth Sonata".

I asked Lando for advice on the piece he played in front of me, and practiced it in private for several months until I could recite the score backwards.When he played it, I was intoxicated by the strong emotion in it; but now when I play it again, I have no intention to think about the meaning of the song itself, which place should be more important.There were many flashbacks from the past that filled my field of vision, from the way he played in Yuzhen's room, all the way back to our initial meeting.

I thought I had long forgotten the first scene he described to me, that is, when I rolled into a circle of people in a paper bird.But the memory suddenly came to the surface now: I had literally cast a quick glance at him.He was sitting on the lawn in the distance, casting his gaze at the woods here, and the sunlight softly blurred the boundaries of the colors on his body.I didn't recognize his face, but I thought he was very good-looking.

My fingers go up and down, and I can no longer tell the good from the bad of my playing, just letting the rush of notes carry me to the finish line.As the last note fell softly, I let out a sigh of relief and turned to look for Karajan's location.

He didn't sit in any of the seats in the theater.He quietly stepped down the long stairs in the dark, and now he was standing directly below the stage.The stage is very high, the table top reaches his chest.He was staring at me intently.

I got up from the piano bench, stepped on the petals made by Charon, and squatted down on the side of the stage closest to him.

I looked down to meet his gaze.Neither of us spoke for a while.The gray in his eyes is no longer obvious under the warm light, only a kind of transparent light blue remains.I stared at them carefully, trying to tell if there was really a glint of water there, or if it was just an illusion.

"It's a nice surprise." Karajan said in a low voice, "You seem to be thinking of something happy to play it."

I had so many things to say to him that I could even put them in a long order, each of which would allow me to say a bit; but this time too.They seem to have been said by me thousands of times in various ways, so that there is no need to say them again, so they all left me at this time, flew into the sky, and the lamp in the center of the theater should have been lit. The lights are silent together.

"Can I give you a hug?" I said to him.

"Of course." As he said, he opened his arms below without any hesitation.

I jumped straight into his arms.

I hung my arm on his shoulder and heard him say in my ear: "It seems that your Soul Blade has achieved something. If this continues, I can indeed look forward to your fifth grade competition."

"But you are leaving." I paused, but still said this sentence.

I felt his cold chin buried in the hollow of my neck.

"If you still need me," Karajan said, "we'll always meet again."

I don’t know where the farewell party outside the theater has progressed. The sharp bonfire has probably been lit in the dark night, accompanied by the smell of roasting food, many people’s conversations and laughter, and maybe all kinds of strange music. Into the same warm and pleasant night sky.

It's so noisy outside, how can they feel the voices of others across the wall?

I returned to the apartment in a daze, knocked open two bottles of lemonade and drank it down.In my hand was an envelope I had retrieved from a letterbox—the last such envelope I received this semester—and inside was a report card with an "A" on it.

Not a single word of the professor's comments was printed.I turned to the back of the paper and found a long paragraph written on it by hand.

"You are the most gifted student I have ever met, literary or otherwise. You have always amazed me with your artistic, resilient, and creative spirit. You are also a presence that awakens others; you yourself It's like an inspiration. Maybe you want to say, you're always taking what I'm giving, but that's not the case. Our connection has always been interactive, and I'm so happy about that.

I am very glad that I was able to meet you in my short teaching career——in my short life.

[align=right]

Alvin Karajan

To his student Vicente

Summer 856”[/align]

I folded the paper carefully and put it in a book on the bookshelf.I don't think I can just dive into the bed and have to walk outside.

I seem to have wandered into old Mr. Smith's house out of nowhere, and he made me some lousy snacks, poured me hot milk, and, after I blankly swept them away, put I drive out.Following his guidance, I searched for the whereabouts of my peers, and suddenly remembered that Ode had no homework to read at this time, and was probably about to fall asleep.

I didn't want to send out a round of butterfly books to ask one by one, so I just climbed to the roof of a low building and sat down.It was relatively lively below, as if someone was talking.I looked over there intently, and there was a face I was familiar with.

"Vicente! What a coincidence, why are you sitting so far away?" Xiao Huaniao greeted me with a wreath on his head, and a group of male and female students I didn't know behind him also waved to me.

I yelled to him, "I'm sleepy and exhausted, and I don't have energy."

He seemed to be regretful and said, "Brother, let me play a song to cheer you up."

"what?"

I stared at his hand and suddenly saw that he was carrying a banjo.The people behind him also seemed to have something in their hands.

"My band!" Xiao Huaniao said, "Have you forgotten?"

That's when I remembered Little Flower and Bird's band.The group of them even made a guest appearance once during the performance of "Erma", and they all belonged to the club members of the Little Flower and Bird Organization.

Xiao Huaniao first sat down and put on a posture of hugging the piano, then turned to the others behind him: "Let's show the latest repertoire to the lost lamb in the sky."

Others sat and stood, and then a gentle prelude sounded.First there is the reverberation of the baritone and bass, and then the female voice quietly blends with it, regardless of each other.

It has a slow rhythm and a moving melody, like a slightly sad ballad, dragging me into a summer night dream.

"Have you seen the tung flower that comes with the wind?

I turned day and night for it

Wind and snow, far away from home

I'm always trying to catch up with it

My dear love

Have you ever seen the tung flower that comes with the wind?

Does it seem to hang forever ahead?

Reflecting every lonely village in my heart, awakening my tired faith

Can it understand my heart song?

My dear love

Have you ever seen the tung flower that comes with the wind?

It sleeps with me in the coldest rain in the mountains

cover my lonely bare arms

Does it rest in my heart?

My dear love

Have you ever seen the tung flower that comes with the wind?

It leads me through the cascading flames

Accompany me drunk on the hot sand field

Why did it leave me again

Because I'm leaving home again?

Have you ever seen the tung tree flower that goes with the wind?

I pushed open the wooden door and went to the distance

I put it on the sideburns of the girl I love

so that it will last forever

It never fades my love

It never fades, my love"

I buried my head in the palm of my hand in this pleasant singing.

My first meeting with Karajan was the summer of freshman year, and my first heart-to-heart conversation with him happened the following summer.I'm still waiting for midsummer to arrive this year, and it's already gone.

The author has something to say: Note: "Tung Tung" was written by me listening to Simon&Garfunkel's version. Although the subsections are completely wrong, the melody is what makes up my mind... the writing is rough.