参加葬礼的名人（Celebrities at funerals）

参加葬礼的名人（Celebrities at funerals） 参加葬礼的名人(Celebrities at funerals) Celebrities at funerals Kawabata Yasunari -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- One In my youth, I had no home and no family. The school holidays, also sponging relatives, from house to house, Go Pro Series qi. Most holidays, I usually spend two of my kin. The two are situated on both sides of the South and north of the lake. One is a town in the Hanoi region; the other is in the rural area of zimbabwe. I traveled by ferry. Wherever I went, they welcomed me, not "you're here," but "you're back."". At the age of twenty-two, less than thirty days of summer vacation, I attended three funerals. Every time I wear a dead father's silk gown, a pair of foot socks, and a rosary in my hand. The first distant relative in Hanoi held a funeral. The dead are the mothers who lost their lives. She advanced in age, some children and grandchildren, grandson of nearly twenty years. Besides her long illness, after careful treatment and care, can be said to the Elysian Fields, die. I saw the lost the dejected look, and face the grandchildren that Fanhong, they also gave me the sadness. However, I have no remembrance of the dead and mourn her death. Is in honor of burning incense, I do not know what is buried in the coffin of the people. Often forget that there has been such a person in the world. Before the funeral, I wore a dress, holding a rosary and fan from Settsu cousin partner, to offer condolences. I am young, and my actions are more solemn and respectful than those of my cousins. I played the role lightly. My cousin looked at me in surprise and studied my movements. His five or six cousin gathered together, there is no need to let them see me in the face down. After about a week, Settsu cousin to live in Hanoi home I called me, said my sister is distantly related to the funeral, I must attend to. It was said that before my family had a funeral, the family also came to attend it. I went to the train with my cousin. People outside the home to offer condolences cease mourning when period is over, who is the family, I'm not sure. Who is dead, I do not know at all. The cousin's home became a resting place for the funeral people, while the cousin's family's room was at another place. Talk about old things in the room no one. We have a high respect for days and funeral time. From time to time someone asked: who is dead, he was much? I continue to play, waiting for the funeral. Since then, Settsu cousin and from work to home in Hanoi to hang up the phone, please say on behalf of distant relatives to attend her sister's funeral. But whose funeral, village name and cemetery, even cousin knew nothing about it. "Speak," said the cousin jokingly: "You're a celebrity at funerals!" I was silent. Because it was on the phone, what kind of expression did my cousin know. I said to my family, "I'm going to the third funeral.". The young wife of the family smiled bitterly and said, "you are like a funeral parlor.". Her cousin was sewing, and she looked at my face. I decided to stay in my home in Tianjin that night and come out the next morning, so I crossed the lake. The cousin's half jokingly said, "the celebrity at the funeral," this brings me back to myself. I pricked up my ears and listened to my words, remembering my experience and past. As a matter of fact, I have attended countless funerals since childhood. I'm familiar with the funeral customs of the places where I take place. On the one hand is due to death from time to time in relatives, on the other hand is due to the rural champagne instrument, both unnecessary and overelaborate formalities, to attend each other's the funeral, I represent the family to attend. I attended the most, is Jingtu and shin's funeral, but also understand the Zen and Nichiren Buddhism ceremony. The light in my memory, he saw five or six people deathbed scene. Three or four times, people dipped their pen into the stagnant water first to moisten the dead lips. Also according to the order of the first or last burn incense and worship, also often pick up the remains and the remains of. For the 77's after the death of the custom, I also know. The Japanese custom, when people die at the end of their mouths, is called dead water. Three years summer dead, they had never met me. Can not directly feel the grief. Only in the graveyard when burning incense to worship, to eliminate distractions, quietly pray Ming Fu for the dead. I saw a lot of young people in his hands hanging down the pilgrimage, but I was the hands together, worship. Many times, my heart is much more pious than those who are less concerned with the funeral. The reason why I can be so, because the funeral situation irritates me, treated me kindly reminded me of old world, deathbed and scenario of the date of the funeral. On the contrary, through the memories of the past, my heart became calm. The more I had lived with estranged old funeral, the more I hold this mood with his memory, went to the cemetery, in the face of memory, worship together. In youth, see also don't know the deceased's funeral, my expression can also match with that kind of scene, without affectation. Because of my loneliness, I get the chance to show myself. Two I had no impression about my parents' funeral. I don't remember anything about their life. People say to me, don't forget the parents, think about it: but I cannot imagine cudgel thinking. Looking at the picture, I just think it is not a portrait, not a living person, but a kind of thing between the two. They are neither relatives nor outsiders, but people between them. It makes me feel a strange sense of oppression, even photos and I also feel shy face each other. Other people talk about my parents, I do not know what kind of mood to listen to, but hope that the conversation will end soon. People tell me their death and life, I also like to remember the car number, soon forgotten. I heard from her aunt, father's funeral held that day, I cry, not in the coffin to knock Dorian, for the lights, the light all down in the yard...... This is the only thing that somehow strikes my heart. Grandfather also arrived in edo. His father graduated from Tokyo medical school. The bronze statue of the president of the school stands in the God Temple of Tang island. On the first day of Tokyo, I was amazed when I was brought to the bronze statue. Half of the bronze statue is alive. I'm embarrassed to look at it. Tokyo old name. I went to primary school that year when I had my grandmother's funeral. Grandmother grandfather with two people save me the feeble grandson, easy to get sent grandson to school, just relieved, but she turns asleep. On the day of the funeral, it was raining cats and dogs, and I was brought back to the cemetery by a man who often went in and out of my house. The twelve year old sister, dressed in white, was also carried by an adult, walking on the mountain road of red earth in front of me. When my grandmother died, I had an emotion that I could not express to my Buddha's altar for the first time. My grandfather can not see it from the outside, check up the temple arch opened a slit, opened and closed, closed and opened again, tirelessly peeping lights for the altar, killing time. But I remember I am not willing to go near the altar of the open hole. Sunset on the horizon, only the mountains and hills covered in bright light, a quiet atmosphere. I lifted my eyes look, I do not know why, always associate the altar for the light when I was eight years old I saw colors. The temple of white arch, slap a long grandmother's ring name, it is the ordinary primary school the first grade student in katakana writing. These words were kept until the house was sold. The man carrying a sister image, then leaving only the white mourning impression. I closed my eyes and attempt in white mourning on foot restraint, but it cannot do so, and red mountain, drizzly rain but the impression clearly emerged, my heart was deeply worried. The back of my sister's man, I don't want to show it in my head. This white thing fluttering in the air is my whole memory of my sister. When I was four or five years old, my sister was adopted in a relative's home. When I was eleven or two years old, she left the world. I don't know my sister. Just like I don't know my parents. My grandfather was very sad about his sister's death and forced me to grief. I searched my memory, I do not know the what kind of feelings, hopes in what can express my grief. Only the elderly grandfather grief, his image pierced my heart. My feelings poured down to my grandfather, and I did not pass my grandfather and move further to my sister. Grandfather was good at divination and was good at divination. He suffered from eye diseases and nearly lost his sight in his late years. He heard his sister a critical, quietly a number of bamboo, the granddaughter of the fate of divination. I helped the old man's vision decline, he arranged the divination tool, while all eyes stared at the old man's face grew dim and dark. After two or three days, there came the loss of my sister. I couldn't bear to tell my grandfather at once that he had taken the letter for two or three hours before deciding to read it to him. At that time, I can read Chinese characters in general, I don't know the cursive, hold his hands, with my fingers for several times in the palm of my grandfather painted those words shape, learn to read to him. This has become a habit. Now I remember reading the letter, feeling my handshake with my grandfather, and feeling that my left palm was cold. Grandfather in Chao Hsien Dowager imperial burial died that night. That was the summer when I was sixteen years old. Grandfather deathbed, phlegm blocking the trachea, torn with grief, bitterness. Sitting in an old woman muttered grandfather said: "like the Buddha with the average person, why the pain of dying?" I look at this painful situation, spend less than one hour, get into the other room. He is my only family, I do it was unfriendly. A year later, a cousin that put the blame on me. I sat in silence. I think it's natural for me to look at it like this. When I was a teenager, I didn't like to justify myself without roots or grounds. Besides, the old woman's words hurt me badly. So I think that even explain why I left the dying grandfather, grandfather can also wiped out the shame. However, I have a cousin of blame, a silent, helpless loneliness suddenly invade my heart, my heart straight penetration. I feel lonely and helpless. On the day of the funeral, many people came to condole with each other. At the busiest time, I suddenly felt a nosebleed coming down my nose. I was frightened, hurriedly with one end of the belt to block the nostrils, and then so barefoot, stepping on the stepping stone flew to the courtyard, hiding in the people can not see the shade of a large, supine on a three foot high King Stone, waiting for blood check. The glare of the sun, through the old oak leaves between the screen down, can see the pieces of fine blue sky. For me, a nosebleed is born first. I told the nosebleed: that is because my grandfather died, my heart hurt. In a mess. I am the only family, must be the same as people entertainment; and the funeral, a multitude of things, never been to spare much thought, would never sink the heart to think my grandfather's death and my own future landing. I never thought I was vulnerable. Nosebleed dampened my spirit. I almost unconsciously ran out, because I do not want to let others see their fragile image. I thought that he is lost, the funeral, such as myself, sorry everyone, and can cause some unrest. Third days after my grandfather died, I had my quiet time for the first time, and I was lying on the rocks. At this moment, he was alone, sad thoughts of a helpless indistinct to come back. The next morning, six or seven of my relatives and villagers went to pick up bones. The crematorium on the mountain is open. I turned the ashes back and left the fire all over the place. I picked up ashes for a while under the fire. Nosebleeds come out again. I dropped my chopsticks, it seems to have said one or two words what undid the belt, with a pointed nose blocked, swiftly climbed up the hill to go, until 7. It's not like this. A tape and my hands are covered with blood, the blood is still ticking to drip on the grass. I lay back quietly, overlooking the pool at the foot of the mountain. Jump on the surface of the reflection in the distant sun, my body, make me dizzy. I felt my body weak from my eyes. About thirty minutes later, I heard people shouting from afar. My belt was wet with blood, and even though the belt was black, I was afraid that someone would see the blood. So he turned back to the crematorium. People all looked at me with their eyes. They said to me, "ashes come out, you pick them up.". I took to hide bad mood, picked up a bit of ashes. Then the wet, dry, hard belt has been attached to me. When the second nosebleed came, nobody knew it. I never told anyone else about it. So far, I have never talked to anyone, nor have I ever asked anyone about a loved one. I grew up in a village far from the city. For grandfather's funeral, exaggeration said, fifty families in the village are also sad and crying. The funeral came from the village, the streets are packed with people in the village. I escorted the coffin in front of them after the women cry. From time to time I heard them say, "what a pity, poor thing!"! I just feel shy and become squeamish. I have gone through a street, where women and cut ahead of us around to another street, sent the same shrill cries. When I was young, I got sympathy from people around me. They must have mercy on me. Half of my heart was honest, accepting their good intentions, half of which produced resentment. After the grandfather's funeral, the funeral, the funeral of uncle aunt, teacher's funeral, funeral and other relatives, all make me sad. My cousin's wedding be worthy of congratulations of the day, with the father left dress decorated my body, held at the funeral of countless days, they sent me to the cemetery. I finally became a celebrity at the funeral. Three That summer, my cousin at a distance of more than a kilometer of the village, the third time to attend the funeral. I remember my cousin to play at home, for the night, just to go home, cousin said to me with a smile: "Maybe I'll ask you to come again.". A girl with lung disease may not be able to get through the summer." When celebrities don't come, funerals don't take place." I use the baggage bag on a kimono tunic and skirt, back to Settsu cousin home. Cousin said happily to me in the courtyard: "Funeral home, sir. You're back."." "Don't be silly. Give me some salt!" I stood at the door and said. "Salt?" Why use it?" Cleanse. Otherwise, you can't get in." "Disgusting, it's nerve." My cousin had a handful of salt came, though to me from a pass, and then said: "All right?" My cousin wanted to wet the wet kimono I took off to the sunny outline. She is like the smell of sweat like, frowning to me, excitedly joked with me: "What a nuisance!"! The clothes of the brother are the graves." "What a bad luck."! Do you know what is tomb flavor?" My cousin laughed: "Of course, it's like burnt hair."!"