初試豆包翻譯功能

東風

向豆包提供了一個中文鏈接。這個鏈接是幾年前在美篇發表過的一篇文章，第一，要求豆包提供英文譯文。第二:把它自己譯成的英文翻譯成中文。下面就是他翻譯成的英文。以及用它的英文譯文，再譯回的中文。 http://www.xsjgww.com/16d73xnc?first_share_to=copy_link&share_depth=1&first_share_uid=12621512請譯成英文 This Feeling Can Only Be Recalled as a Memory（此情可待成追憶） The landscape photos are sourced from the Internet. "Where Have All The Flowers Gone" was recorded by Pete Seeger in 1956 for the "Rainbow Quest" album in the "Folk Music Road" project. At that time, he only recorded a demo, and the version we usually hear now is basically the one adapted and with two additional stanzas by The Kingston Trio in 1962. The song starts and ends with flowers, but people are no longer there, having disappeared in the flames of war. The cruelty and tragedy of war linger in the hearts of both the singer and the listeners. This song is regarded as "the greatest anti-war song". It is selected as the last piece, hoping that everyone will cherish the hard - won happy life. New Year's Eve is approaching. After consecutive sunny days, soft raindrops fell last night, and the sky is misty. In the winter mornings in Yongcheng，Ningbo（Yong City）（寧波）, it always seems to be covered with clouds and fog. Looking out of the window at the uncompleted high - rise buildings that cover the sky, leaving only narrow gaps, and the big red characters "Deposit 20,000, Get 100,000 Off" on them, a sense of melancholy wells up. My thoughts float back like gossamer to more than forty years ago - 1968. That was the era of the "Cultural Revolution". In the trend of millions of urban "educated youth" going to the mountains and the countryside across the country, my classmates and I "took root" in the Wulanchabu Grassland in Inner Mongolia. In autumn, we settled down at the educated - youth spot "Ailiu", dozens of miles away from the commune office. The dirt road connecting the commune office and Ailiu is like a golden ribbon, winding and undulating on the green grassland dotted with cattle and sheep. To get from the commune office to Ailiu, one has to pass through a herding spot called Benbatai. There are just a few adobe houses and an old man there. On the grassland where there are no other herds for miles around, he raises and grazes more than twenty donkeys belonging to the "Baiyin Hala" brigade, and three extremely expensive fine - wool rams that are said to have been airlifted from Xinjiang (the villagers emphasized again and again that they came by plane). The old man's name is Zhang Sheng, and the locals call him "Lao Shengzi". His body is a bit hunched. Unlike the sturdy herdsmen who whip their horses, the team assigned him this relatively easy job of taking care of these twenty - odd little creatures alone. He never thought about the significance of his job to himself. He just lived quietly and faithfully in Benbatai. Passing herdsmen would often stop here to rest. Lao Shengzi couldn't pronounce the fashionable term "educated youth" correctly and called us "Qing Shi Zhi Nian". That year, a movement was carried out from top to bottom. The first batch of "educated youth" who had gone to the countryside were selected from various educated - youth spots across the grassland to participate in a "study class" at the commune office. Dozens of heads crowded into the large meeting room of the commune office day and night for meetings and studies for days on end, and our buttocks hurt from sitting for so long. One day, I got permission to take a leave. After a hasty lunch in the cafeteria, I walked alone from the commune to Ailiu. I wanted to get the winter sheepskin coats newly made for each of us educated youth by the team (the production brigade customized sheepskin coats, felt boots, and wool felt mattresses for each educated youth). I also planned to go to "Yangjima"'s home on the other side of the Ailiu hill to get some fresh milk for a treat. The commune buildings were soon left behind. Young and naive as I was, I hummed, "We are like winged divine horses, galloping on the grassland." I felt as if I had become one with the grassland. The warm sun steamed the grassland. The air was filled with the strong aroma of grass, and occasionally, I could see the iris flowers bouncing in the grass not far away. Suddenly, a gray little wild rabbit sprang out from under my feet. It stopped, pricked up its ears to peek, and then disappeared into the grass in a flash. "Little rascal, if you step into a fox trap set by a hunter, you'll never find a mate!" However, the dozens of - mile mountain road was not as romantic as I thought. As I walked, blisters formed on my feet, and I somewhat regretted my plan for the day. Fortunately, the roof of the adobe house in Benbatai gradually became clear in the bluish - brown distance. Just before it got dark, I finally dragged myself to the front of the adobe house. Without waiting for the host Lao Shengzi to greet me, I entered the house and sat cross - legged on the earthen kang. Lao Shengzi had just returned from watering the donkey herd by the well. He hadn't even had time to get himself something to eat. He was puffing on his pipe, as if thinking about something. He didn't say anything when he saw me. I was worried about how to cover the remaining few miles. Twilight surrounded the adobe house. There was no kerosene lamp lit in the house, and the old man's pipe glowed on and off. The grassland was extremely quiet. Only the faint neighing of the horse herd in the twilight told me that it was time for the horses to return. It was really getting late, so I had to say goodbye to Lao Shengzi and limp along the dirt road, struggling to continue my journey. A few hours later, the sound of hooves "clattering" on the hard ground came from behind. I suddenly turned around. In the starlight, it was Lao Shengzi. He was hunched over, leading a donkey and swaying as he walked. "You probably won't be able to walk back to Ailiu, city kid. It's night. Hurry up and ride!" Then he muttered to himself, "Alas, it's the time when the livestock are fattening up for the autumn." I couldn't care less. Reciting the saying "Ride a donkey on its rump and a horse on its back", I tried to climb onto the donkey, coordinating my arms and legs. The little donkey was slippery all over. Every time I climbed, it dodged. After several rounds, the little guy got angry and wouldn't let me get close anymore. I sighed in disappointment and looked at Lao Shengzi helplessly. Suddenly, Lao Shengzi stuffed the reins he had been holding into my hand, bent his front legs and pushed his back legs against the donkey, using his legs as a ladder. "Come on, get on!" I hesitated for a moment, looking at the increasingly dark night sky. I stepped on the "ladder" made by Lao Shengzi with my left foot and leaped with my right leg. Surprisingly, I landed steadily on the little donkey's back. The old man shook the reins I was holding, and the little donkey obediently "clattered" forward with its four hooves, walking unhurriedly towards Ailiu and into the depths of the vast night grassland. I didn't dare to look back at Lao Shengzi behind me. I just wanted to ride steadily and not be thrown off by the little donkey. After walking a short distance, the old man's clear voice came from the silent night sky, "When you get home, it knows the way. Let it come back by itself." As for how this little donkey felt when carrying me, a person who had never ridden a donkey before, to Ailiu and how it returned to its home in Benbatai, I had no idea. "You're not a donkey. How can you know a donkey's ambition?" That night, I slept in my clothes on the earthen kang in Ailiu. The next day, facing the rising sun, I walked on the golden, dewy soft grass to "Yangjima"'s yurt and sat cross - legged. Her daughter filled a whole canteen with freshly milked milk for me with a smile. Her young son jumped around me. Finally, he seemed to have discovered a new world. Pointing at my prominent tiger teeth, he rushed into his mother's Mongolian robe and kept talking - all three of them had extremely white and neat teeth. "Yangjima" was smiling at first. But when I said I had just come from "Manda Temple" (the location of the commune), she somehow became sad, and tears welled up in her eyes. It turned out that her husband had been to the commune office to participate in the "study class" for about a month and hadn't come home yet. She was worried about her husband and took care of the cattle herd with her two young children. That night, I added some firewood to the kang stove, boiled the milk, and had a delicious bowl of fried rice with milk. Educated youth and old herdsmen together. The next time I saw Lao Shengzi, there was no greeting. His back seemed to be even more hunched, and his bowed legs swayed more severely when he walked. He was still single, always had been - from the first time I saw him until I left the pastoral area. A bundle of wool felt - wrapped luggage was all his belongings. He moved around between various widely - spaced herding spots. When he was lucky, there would be an old - fashioned radio powered by a battery at that spot - of course, the battery and the radio were the property of the production team. He would listen to the radio and operas. Sometimes, several old men with similar fates would sleep on the same heated kang and take turns using the same stove, iron pot, and steamer to cook. The grass withered and flourished twice. Our grassland pastoral commune, with a registered population of less than 400, had successively received nearly 200 "educated youth" who actively supported the border areas from all over the country. The ecology gradually became unbalanced. The Military Control Committee of the Banner decided to relocate some "educated youth" to the agricultural commune to continue receiving re - education from the "poor and lower - middle peasants". My name was on the announced list. At the Ailiu educated - youth spot.We hummed,"Goodbye, the green grassland. Goodbye, the red hometown. For the great ideal, we fly far away like swallows." - while packing our luggage. The female educated youth who stayed behind carried two large buckets of water from a distant well to see us off. The day before my departure, my mother sent me spiced pickled turnips and a small package of longan pulp from the famous city in northern Hebei. I guessed that these rare foods must have come from my grandmother's home in the south of the Yangtze River because they were hard to come by in the north at that time. With indescribable feelings, I carefully divided these things into several portions, planning to take another look at the pasture and the villagers who had nurtured me. After two years of hard work, my hands and feet were calloused - no more blisters. I soon arrived at Benbatai, which was just a few miles away. I rushed straight to the adobe house. The door was open, but there was no one inside. The dough - board spread on the earthen kang and the freshly cut noodles told me that the old man was nearby. I couldn't wait, so I gently placed the small package on the edge of the kang. The old man would surely know that it was left by the "Qing Shi Zhi Nian". I excitedly rushed towards "Yangjima"'s summer camp. The golden grassland and the familiar hillside always covered with vegetation - it was strange that the big yellow dog "Saihu" didn't run over to greet me as usual! - Under the blue sky, the white - lotus - like yurt was nowhere to be seen! In front of me was an oval brown land surrounded by golden pasture. I suddenly remembered that "Yangjima" and her family, who "moved with the water and grass", must have driven their cattle herd to a winter camp with more abundant water and grass. Only the empty cattle pen was left, watching over the pasture that had been grazed for several months and a well with a stone well - fence not far away.Where could I find them in this vast grassland?I squatted there blankly on that oval piece of land. At my feet, tender green grass had quietly sprouted. I buried my head between my knees, and those happy moments I had spent in "Yangjima"'s yurt came flooding back into my mind with great force. Many years have passed. I returned to the city and got a stable job. Then, with the relocation of my unit, I moved from northern Hebei to the coast of the East China Sea and continued my career. I have traveled north and south by various means of transportation, visited mountains, rivers, and historical sites, and met many people who are working hard for a better today and an even better tomorrow on the land of our motherland. However, in the deepest part of my memory and at the end of my sight, there is always that boundless golden grassland, the golden hometown - the hometown of my heart. A journalist from Xinhua News Agency in Beijing came to the grassland for an interview. Old herdsmen, educated youth who went to the countryside, border - guarding People's Liberation Army soldiers, and barefoot doctors sat around the yurt, studying the works of Mao Zedong. Completed in the Spring Festival of 2016 Here, I quote a passage from Mo Yan as the end:It is the responsibility of us who have experienced it to tell future generations the real history of the educated - youth going to the mountains and the countryside during the "Cultural Revolution". When we completely deny the "Cultural Revolution", the educated - youth going - to - the - countryside movement that took place in that era should also be denied. However, when denying that movement, we should not deny the youthful dedication made by 17 million educated youth to the country and the nation in that special era. Just as we deny the humiliation of the late Qing Dynasty for ceding territory and paying indemnities, but we must affirm the patriotic feat of Lin Zexu's destruction of opium at Humen as the governor of Guangdong and Guangxi. Just as we criticize the complete annihilation of the Beiyang Fleet, but we must affirm the heroic deeds of patriotic soldiers like Deng Shichang who shed their blood in the sea. The racist black jails in South Africa imprisoned the unyielding civil rights fighter Mandela. When we praise this black president, should we also praise the autocratic prison that imprisoned him for many years? The same logic applies vice - versa. We cannot infer that the wrong movement was correct just because of the moving deeds of the educated youth during their time in the mountains and the countryside, and vice - versa. When we deny the educated - youth going - to - the - countryside movement during the "Cultural Revolution", we should also actively affirm the historical achievements of the educated youth's youthful dedication during that period and express our gratitude to the local cadres and people for their care and support for the educated youth. One - sided or absolute conclusions, simple affirmations or denials, are not only unfair to the history of the educated youth, but also unfair to the local cadres and people who helped the educated youth. Hemingway once said that when an iceberg moves in the sea, only one - tenth of it is above the water surface. For writing, what the author really wants to express is only one - eighth of it shown on the pen. When readers read, they feel the power behind it based on this one - eighth, and then use their imagination to explore the remaining "seven - eighths" hidden behind the text. From this, readers can more clearly feel the impact of real life on themselves. Thank you for your attention. 回憶知青歲月2025 年 5 月 6 日?內容由 AI 生成，不能保證完全真實Thank you for your attention.請翻成中文 此情可待成追憶風景照片來源于網絡。《花兒都到哪里去了》（“Where Have All The Flowers Gone” ）是皮特·西格1956 年為 “民歌之路” 項目錄制的《彩虹之旅》（《Rainbow Quest》）專輯中的作品。當時，他只是錄制了一個小樣，而我們現在聽到的版本基本是金斯頓三重唱在 1962 年改編并增加了兩段歌詞后的版本。這首歌以花兒起，又以花兒終，然而人卻已不在，消逝于戰火之中。戰爭的殘酷與悲慘縈繞在歌者和聽者的心頭。這首歌被譽為 “最偉大的反戰歌曲”。選擇這首歌作為最后一首，是希望大家珍惜這來之不易的幸福生活。除夕將至，連續多日晴朗之后，昨夜天空落下了輕柔的雨絲，天色霧蒙蒙的。甬城冬日的清晨，總是云霧繚繞。望著窗外那些尚未完工、將天空遮得只剩條條縫隙的高樓大廈，以及上面 “存 2 萬減 10 萬” 的大紅字樣，一絲惆悵涌上心頭。我的思緒如游絲般飄回到四十多年前 ——1968 年。那是 “文革” 時期。在全國數百萬城市 “知識青年” 上山下鄉的浪潮中，我和同學們 “扎根” 到了內蒙古烏蘭察布草原。秋天時，我們落腳在離公社機關幾十里外的知青點 “艾柳”。連接公社機關和艾柳的土路，宛如一條金色的綢帶，在星星點點散布著牛羊的綠色草原上蜿蜒起伏。從公社機關前往艾柳，要經過一個叫本壩臺的牧點。那里只有幾間土坯房和一位老人。在方圓幾里都沒有其他畜群的草原上，他飼養著 “白音哈拉” 大隊的二十多頭驢，還有三只據說從新疆空運過來的（鄉親們反復強調它們是坐飛機來的）極為昂貴的細毛種公羊。老人名叫張生，當地人都叫他 “老生子” 。他的背有些駝，不像那些策馬揚鞭的牧人那般剽悍，隊里便給他安排了這份輕松的活兒，讓他獨自守護著這二十多個小生命。他從不思考這份工作對自己有什么意義，只是靜靜地、忠實地在本壩臺生活著。過往的牧民時常會在這兒歇腳；老生子念不準 “知識青年” 這個時髦的詞，把我們叫做 “青識知年”。那年自上而下開展運動。首批插隊的 “知青” 從遍布草原的各個知青點被抽調到公社機關參加 “學習班”。黑壓壓的一片人，一連幾十天日夜擠在機關的大會議室里開會學習，坐得屁股生疼。一天，我請了假，在食堂匆匆吃完午飯，便獨自一人從公社徒步前往艾柳。我想取生產隊新為每位知青定制的冬裝羊皮襖（生產大隊為每個知青量身定制了羊皮襖、氈靴和羊毛氈褥子），還打算到艾柳山坡那邊的 “揚吉瑪” 家討些新鮮牛奶解解饞。公社的房子很快就被我甩在了身后。年少懵懂的我，哼唱著 “我們像雙翼的神馬，飛馳在草原上”，感覺自己仿佛已經與草原融為一體。溫暖的陽光照耀著草地，空氣中彌漫著濃郁的草香，偶爾還能看到不遠處草叢中搖曳的馬蘭花。突然，一只灰色的小野兔從我的腳下躥了出來，它停下來，豎起耳朵窺探了一番，便迅速消失在了草叢中。我笑罵道：“小兔崽子，要是撞上獵人設的狐貍夾子，你可就娶不了媳婦啦！”然而，這幾十里山路走起來可沒有想象中那么浪漫。沒走多遠，我的腳上就磨出了水泡，我有些后悔自己當天的計劃。好在視野中本壩臺土屋的屋頂在青褐色的背景中逐漸清晰起來。在天黑之前，我終于拖著疲憊的身軀挪到了土屋前，沒等主人老生子招呼，我就進屋盤腿坐在了土炕上。老生子剛從井邊給驢群飲完水回來，還沒來得及給自己弄口吃的。他正抽著煙斗，似乎在沉思著什么。看到我進來，他也沒說話。而我則發愁剩下的幾里路該怎么走。暮色籠罩了土屋，屋里沒有點煤油燈，老人的煙斗忽明忽暗。草原安靜極了，只有暮色中隱隱傳來的馬群嘶鳴聲，提醒我已是馬群歸圈的時候。天實在太晚了，我只得向老生子告辭，一瘸一拐地沿著土路艱難地繼續前行。沒過幾個時辰，身后傳來牲口蹄子踏在硬地上 “噠噠噠” 的聲音。我猛地回頭，在星光下，看到是老生子，他躬著身子，牽著一頭毛驢，搖搖晃晃地趕了過來。“城里娃，你怕是走不回艾柳了，走夜路不安全，快騎上！” 接著他又自言自語地嘟囔了一句，“唉，眼下正是牲口抓秋膘的時候啊”。我顧不上許多，默念著 “驢騎屁股馬騎腰” 的口訣，手腳并用往驢身上爬。小毛驢渾身光溜溜的，我每爬一次，它就躲一次，折騰了幾個回合，小家伙發起了脾氣，再也不讓我靠近。我失望地嘆了口氣，無奈地看著老生子。突然，老生子把一直牽著的韁繩塞到我手里，前腿弓、后腿蹬，緊緊挨著毛驢，用雙腿搭成了一個 “梯子”。“來，上來！” 我猶豫了片刻，望著愈發漆黑的夜空，左腳踩在老生子搭的 “梯子” 上，右腿猛地一跨，竟然穩穩地坐到了小家伙的背上。老人抖了抖我手中的韁繩，小毛驢順從地邁動四蹄，“噠噠” 地朝著艾柳的方向，緩緩走進茫茫的夜色草原深處。我不敢回頭看身后的老生子，只顧著坐穩，生怕被小家伙甩下來。沒走多遠，寂靜的夜空中傳來老人清晰的聲音：“到家它認識路，讓它自己回來就行。”至于這頭小毛驢，馱著我這個從未騎過驢的人走到艾柳時是什么心情，之后又是如何回到本壩臺自己家的，我就不得而知了。正所謂 “汝非驢，焉知驢之志向？”那天晚上，我和衣睡在艾柳的土炕上。第二天，迎著朝陽，我踏著沾滿露水的金色柔軟草地，來到 “揚吉瑪” 的蒙古包，盤腿坐下。她的女兒笑著給我滿滿灌了一軍壺剛擠的牛奶，她年幼的兒子在我身邊蹦來跳去。后來，他像是發現了新大陸一樣，指著我露出的小虎牙，一頭扎進他母親的蒙古袍里，不停地說著什么 —— 他們一家三口的牙齒都潔白整齊。“揚吉瑪” 一開始還面帶笑容，可當我說自己剛從 “滿達廟”（公社所在地）過來時，不知為何，她的神情變得憂傷起來，眼里泛起了淚花。原來，她的丈夫去公社機關參加 “學習班”，已經有一個多月沒回家了。她一邊牽掛著丈夫，一邊帶著兩個年幼的孩子照料牛群。當晚，我往炕爐里添了些柴，把牛奶燒開，沖了一碗香噴噴的炒米，美美地享受了一番。知青與老牧民在一起。再次見到老生子時，我們沒有過多寒暄。他的背似乎更駝了，兩條羅圈腿走起路來搖晃得也更厲害了。他依舊孤身一人，從第一次見到他，直到我離開牧區，始終如此。一卷用羊毛氈裹著的行李就是他的全部家當。他輾轉于各個相距甚遠的牧業點。運氣好的時候，牧業點上會有一臺用蓄電池的老式收音機 —— 蓄電池和收音機當然都是生產隊的財產；他會聽聽廣播、戲曲。有時，幾個命運相似的老漢會睡在同一個熱炕上，輪流用同一個爐灶、鐵鍋和蒸籠做飯。牧草兩度枯萎又繁茂。我們這個戶籍人口不足 400 人的草原牧區公社，陸續接納了近 200 名來自全國各地踴躍支邊的 “知青”，生態逐漸有些失衡。旗軍管會決定將一部分 “知青” 遷往農區公社，繼續接受 “貧下中農” 的再教育。公布的名單里有我。在艾柳知青點，我們一邊哼唱著 “再見吧青色的草原，再見吧紅色的家鄉，為了遠大理想向燕子似的飛向遠方”，一邊整理行裝。留下的女知青從很遠的井臺挑來兩大桶水為我們送行。啟程的前一天，母親從遙遠的塞北名城寄來了五香大頭咸菜和一小包桂圓肉。我猜這些稀罕的食物肯定是江南外婆家寄來的，因為在當時的北方，這些東西很難見到。我懷著難以言表的心情，小心翼翼地把這些食物分成幾份，打算再去看看養育過我的牧場和鄉親們。經過兩年的勞作，我的手腳都磨出了繭子，再也不會起泡了。幾里路的距離，很快就走到了本壩臺。我徑直奔向那間土屋，門開著，屋里卻沒有人。土炕上攤著的面板和剛切好的面條告訴我，老人就在附近。來不及等他了，我把小包輕輕放在炕沿上，我想老人肯定知道這是 “青識知年” 留下的。我興高采烈地朝著 “揚吉瑪” 的夏營盤奔去，那片熟悉的金色草地，那片永遠被植被覆蓋的山坡 —— 奇怪的是，大黃狗 “賽虎” 這次卻沒有像往常一樣跑過來迎接我！藍天下，那座如白蓮花般的蒙古包不見了蹤影！眼前只有一片被金黃色牧草環繞的橢圓形褐色土地。我突然想起來，“逐水草而居” 的 “揚吉瑪” 一家，肯定是趕著牛群遷到水草更豐美的冬營盤去了。只剩下空蕩蕩的牛欄，守望著被啃食了幾個月的草場，以及不遠處那口圍著石井欄的水井。在這茫茫大草原上，我該到哪里去找他們呢？我茫然地蹲在那塊橢圓形的土地上。腳下，嫩綠的小草已經悄悄破土而出。我把頭埋在兩膝之間，從前在 “揚吉瑪” 蒙古包里度過的那些歡樂時光，如潮水般涌上心頭。許多年過去了。我回城后有了一份穩定的工作。后來，隨著單位搬遷，我從塞北落戶到了東海之濱，繼續自己的職業生涯。我乘坐過各種交通工具，南來北往，游歷過名山大川和古跡，也結識了許多為了祖國的今天和明天而奮斗的人。然而，在我記憶的最深處，在我視野的盡頭，始終是那片一望無際、如波浪般翻滾的金色草原，那片金色的故鄉 —— 我心靈的歸宿。北京新華社的記者曾來草原采風。老牧民、插隊知青、駐守邊境的解放軍戰士、赤腳醫生圍坐在蒙古包前學習毛主席著作。完稿于 2016 年春節這里引用莫言的一段話作為結尾：將 “文革” 時期知青上山下鄉的真實歷史告知后人，是我們這些親歷者的責任。當我們徹底否定 “文革” 時，那個時代發生的知青上山下鄉運動也理應被否定。但在否定那場運動的同時，不應否定 1700 萬知青在那個特殊年代為國家和民族所做出的青春奉獻。就像我們否定晚清王朝喪權辱國的行徑，但要肯定兩廣總督林則徐虎門銷煙的愛國壯舉；就像我們批評北洋水師全軍覆沒的悲劇，卻要肯定鄧世昌等愛國將士血染海疆的英勇事跡。南非種族主義的黑牢囚禁過不屈的民權斗士曼德拉，當我們贊美這位黑人總統時，難道也要去贊美那囚禁他多年的專制監獄嗎？反之亦然，不能因為知青們在上山下鄉過程中有感人至深的事跡，就推斷那場錯誤的運動是正確的。同樣，當我們否定 “文革” 中的知青上山下鄉運動時，也要積極肯定知青們在其中做出的青春奉獻，并感謝當地干部群眾對知青的關懷與照顧。片面或絕對的結論，簡單的肯定或否定，不僅對知青的歷史不公平，對幫助過知青的當地干部和群眾也不公平。知青上山下鄉運動遍布祖國大江南北，由于地域、經歷、知青素質、受教育程度、政治環境的不同，其間必然存在諸多差異。我們應該尊重知青們對各自上山下鄉經歷的不同感受。在 “青春無悔” 和 “青春有悔” 這個本就不成立的爭論話題中，不應簡單地用 “肯定” 或 “否定” 去評判他人。“無悔” 的人有著青春熱血、浪漫光榮的歷程，“有悔” 的人也有著青春中不堪回首的往事。在多元社會中，何必強求一致呢？我們應該多一些包容，尤其是我們這一代人，更應摒棄非黑即白的階級斗爭式認識論。筆者認為：“文革” 中的知青上山下鄉運動違背歷史發展潮流和人們的主觀意愿，必須予以徹底否定；但 “文革” 期間 1700 萬知青用青春和熱血為國家民族做出的奉獻，必須得到充分肯定。海明威曾說，冰山在海里移動時，露出海面的部分只有十分之一。對于寫作而言，作者真正想要表達的心意，呈現在筆端的也僅有八分之一。讀者在閱讀時，會依據這八分之一去感受文字背后的力量，進而發揮自己的想象力，去挖掘文字背后隱藏的 “八分之七”，從中更清晰地體會現實生活對自身的影響。感謝關注。

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