First love first love)

From: http://xianguo.com/item/642040757
First love

A surge of adrenalin, a rush of blood, a thing of innocence and pain that lasts a lifetime

I remember the way the light touched her hair. she turned her head, and our eyes met, a momentary awareness in that raucous th-grade classroom. I felt as though I 'd been struck a blow under the heart. thus began my first love affair.

Her name was Rachel, and I mooned my way through grade and high school, stricken at the mere sight of her, tongue-tied in her presence. does anyone, anymore, linger in the shadows of evening, drawn by the pale light of a window-her window-like some hapless summer insect? That delirious swooning, asexual but urgent and obsessive, that made me awkward and my voice crack, is like some impossible dream now. I know I was so afflicted, but I cannot actually believe what memory insists I did. which was to suffer. exquisitely.

I wocould catch sight of her, walking down an aisle of trees to or from school, and I 'd become paralyzed. she always seemed so encoded ed, so self-possessed. at home, I 'd relieve each encounter, writhing at the thought of my inadequacies. even so, as we entered our teens, I sensed her affectionate tolerance for me.

"Going steady" implied a maturity we still lacked. her orthodox Jewish upbringing and my own Catholic scruples imposed a celibate grace that made even kissing a distant prospect, however fervently desired. I managed to hold her once at a dance-chaperoned, of course. our embrace made her giggle, a sound so trusting that I hated myself for what I 'd been thinking.

At any rate, my love for Rachel remained unrequited. we graduated from high school, she went on to college, and I joined the Army. when World War II engulfed us, I was sent overseas. for a time we corresponded, and her letters were the highlight of those grinding, endless years. once she sent me a snapshot of herself in a bathing suit, which drove me to the wildest of fantasies. I mentioned the possibility of marriage in my next letter, and almost immediately her replies became less frequent, less personal.

The first thing I did when I returned to the States was to call on Rachel. her mother answered the door. rachel no longer lived there. she had married a medical student she 'd met in college. "I thought she wrote you," her mother said.

Her "Dear John" letter finally caught up with me while I was awaiting discharge. she gently explained the impossibility of a marriage between us. looking back on it, I must have recovered rather quickly, although for the first few months I believed I didn't want to live. like Rachel, I found someone else, whom I learned to love with a deep and permanent commitment that has lasted to this day.

Then recently, after an interval of more than 40 years, I heard from Rachel again. her husband had died. she was passing through town and had learned of my whereabouts through a mutual friend. we agreed to meet.

I felt both curious and excited. in the last few years, I hadn't thought about her, and her sudden call one morning had taken me aback. the actual sight of her was a shock. this white-haired matron at the restaurant table was the Rachel of my dreams and desires, the supple mermaid of that snapshot?

Yet time had given us a common reference and respect. We talked as old friends, and quickly discovered we were both grandparents.

"Do you remember this ?" She handed me a slip of worn paper. it was a poem I 'd written her while still in school. I examined the crude meter and pallid rhymes. watching my face, she snatched the poem from me and returned it to her purse, as though fearful I was going to destroy it.

I told her about the snapshot, how I 'd carried it all through the war.

"It wouldn't have worked out, you know," she said.

"How can you be sure ?" I countered. "Ah, Colleen, it might have been grand indeed-my Irish conscience and your Jewish guilt !"

Our laughter startled people at a nearby table. during the time left to us, out glances were furtive, oblique. I think that what we saw in each other repudiated what we 'd once been to ourselves, we immortals.

Before I put her into a taxi, she turned to me. "I just wanted to see you once more. to tell you something. "her eyes met mine. "I wanted to thank you for having loved me as you did. "We kissed, and she left.

From a store window my reflection stared back at me, an aging man with gray hair stirred by an evening breeze. I decided to walk home. her kiss still burned on my lips. I felt faint, and sat on a park again. all around me the grass and trees were shining in the surreal glow of sunset. something was being lifted out of me. something had been completed, and the scene before me was so beautiful that I wanted to shout and dance and sing for joy.

That soon passed, as everything must, and presently I was able to stand Start for home.

Chinese Translation ]:

First love

First love is the surging emotion,

First love is the stream of emotion in the hot blood,

First love is the pure expression of emotion,

First love is the eternal pain of life.

I was able to think back to the moment when I was in the fifth-grade classroom, the soft lights poured on her hair, and she turned her face, and we stared at each other for a long time. In a flash, my heart seemed to have suffered a severe blow. This is what I feel when I first love.

Her name is reecher, which makes me spend the whole middle school time. As soon as I see her figure, I will be flustered, and the words in front of her also become stuttering. Until now, I was wondering if there were still people wandering alone in front of her window in the moonlight, and the shadows were long in the dark light through the window, is it as lonely and helpless as the flying insects in the summer night? I don't have any physiological desires for her, But I'm crazy about her. I love her with a crush, and that excited emotion makes me crazy. I'm getting dumb and have a dumb voice. Now I want to think like an incredible dream. This kind of emotion has been burning on me for a long time, and it is hard for me to believe how the memories have been so painful and beautiful to torture me for a long time. Wonderful!

When I walked along the chapel or walked out of school, I wanted to see her figure. I was obsessed with being unable to extricate myself. She always looks so self-satisfied and pleasant. Back home, I always comfort myself with the reason I love her to relieve the pain. Even when we all enter the youth age, I can feel her tenderness is still suffering me.

"Being a partner with a definite relationship" means we still lack the kind of calm mentality of adults. She grew up in a Jewish family that believes in orthodox religion, while in my family I believe in the Catholic Church, which makes me look forward to a bright and distant future. In any case, I'm so eager. I remember that at a dance, I tried to hug her as a Hualien messenger. Our hug was a happy smile, which eliminated all my doubts. I regret my indecisive thoughts.

In any case, I did not expect my love for Rachel to be fruitless. After we graduated from middle school, she went to college, but I joined the Army. I was dispatched to a foreign country during the Second World War. In the beginning, we carried on one another, and her letter became the most brilliant part of my life in the long and difficult time. Once upon a time, she sent me a picture in a swimsuit, so that I was crazy about her. In the next letter, I proposed a marriage request, but her reply was gradually scarce and lacking in passion.

The first thing I want to do when I return home is to meet Rachel. Her mother opened the door and told me that Rachel was no longer here. She got married to a doctor at the university. Her mother said, "I think my daughter has written a letter to tell you ."

Before I retired, I received her "Cut off mail ". In the letter, she told us why we cannot be combined. Looking back, I quickly found my feeling. Even in the first few months, I simply didn't want to live in this world. But in my future life, I also found my own life partner like Rachel. We love each other forever and deeply, and share our joys and sorrows until today.

Until now, after being interrupted for more than 40 years, I received another letter from her. The letter says her husband has died. When she was passing by the town where I live, she learned from a friend of mine. We all agree to goodbye.

At that time, I felt curious and excited. In the past few years, I never remembered her, But one morning, one of her phone calls brought me back to the dust. She was very surprised to me in front of the table. She was a white-haired housewife standing in front of me. Is this what I want to dream about, Rachel? Isn't that a beautiful mermaid with a swimsuit on the top of the photo?

The passage of time allows us to look back and explore our past lives. We had a pleasant conversation like an old friend. Soon we found that they were both grandparents.

"Do you still remember this ?" She handed me a yellow paper, which was a poem I made for reecher in the middle school age. I browsed the poor rhythm and the dull rhyme again. She looked at me and pulled the paper back and put it in her bag. It seems like I have torn it apart.

I also told her how I felt about the mermaid photo and how I brought it around in the whole war.

"You know, what's the purpose ?" She said.

"How do you know ?" I retorted.

"Ah, Ke Lin, it may be a great feat of my life. Because I have the conscience of the Irish, and I don't want you to feel the guilt of being a Jewish ."

Our laughter shocked the people next to the table. Then our eyes were shining and we were not sure. The feeling of our previous moments of mutual gaze has vanished, and that moment has become an everlasting landscape.

Before I took her to a taxi, she turned around and said, "I want to take a look at you and tell you one thing ." We stare again. "Thank you for loving me so sincerely ." We kissed each other, and then she disappeared into my view.

From the image in the shop window, I saw myself, an old man, blowing his white hair in the evening breeze. I decided to walk home. I still feel her kiss burning my lips. I felt so weak that I sat alone on a bench in the park. The vegetation around us is green in the sunset. Although everything has passed, there is an invisible force that inspires me. The scenery is so beautiful that I want to sing, shout, and dance.

Everything has ended, and soon this feeling has passed. Now, I can get up and start home.