A long time ago, there was a young man who wanted to be a writer. He wanted to get married and to live writing compositions, but he couldn't discover what he had to write. He couldn't come up with any good stories, and it seemed that everything was already written.
"The men who were born one thousand years ago are very lucky. Even the men who were born one hundred years ago are much luckier than me. Up to then, there were still good subject matters to write about. It is natural that there are no more good subject matters." The young man said complaining.
He became ill because he studied so hard and thought a lot about being a writer. None of the great doctors could cure him, but there was one person who might be able to cure him - a wise old lady.
The Wise Old Lady worked as a gatekeeper unbolting the gate for carriages and horses of a ranch. She also had comprehensive knowledge of many subjects. The young man decided to go and visit her.
Even though there were no trees or flowers around the wise old lady's house, there was a beehive right next to the doors, a small garden where potatoes were growing, and the fence was surrounded by hawthorn. 'How dreary this is!' He thought to himself. But here were the treasures he was searching for.
"Write what you think. Even if they are crumbs of bread, they are still bread. I know why you came here. You want to be a writer, but you can not come up with a great story, can you?" "Yes, everything was already written as stories. Nowadays is different from the old days." The young man answered.
"You're right. A long time ago, people burned wise women like me at the stake, and poets were poor. But nowadays is better than any time. You just can't see those things, because you have such narrow insight. I even doubt whether you can hear. If you have the ability to write, there are endless good subject matters. First, stop thinking about yourself, and try to understand a ray of sunlight."
The young man put on the wise old lady's glasses and hearing aid, and he received and held one of the potatoes that the wise old lady gave to him from the potato patch. After a while, the potato started to talk about itself. After he heard the potato talking, the wise old lady let the young man look at the hawthorn.
The hawthorn also told him a romantic story. The young man was impressed. But the wise old lady seemed to know already, and she took him to a place where there was a beehive. When the young man looked into the hive, it was full of vigor, the bees were all busy.
To freshen the air of their own big factory, bees were flying in a row in every passageway, fanning their wings, working bees were carrying a lot of pollen from outside, and some were maiking honey and beeswax.
"Now let's go to a road and see some travelers." The wise old lady said to the young man tapping his shoulder. "There are too many people here. It is very hard to write the stories of all of them. We'd better go back." He said to her.
"No, go straight into the middle of the crowd, look at them and try to understand what they say with your whole heart and soul. Then, you'll find tremendous things to write about. Oh, and give me back my glasses and hearing aid." The wise old lady told the young man.
"Now, I can't see or hear anything!" The young man took off the glasses and hearing aid and said. "Then, you can never be a writer." The wise old lady shook her head. "Can't I ever be a writer?" "Imagination is not something you can learn and acquire. You should live in another way instead."
The young man was sad about the fact that he could never be a writer, so the wise old lady gave him some advice. "Buy a mask and frown in front of poets. Even if you are impressed by the poem, try to frown. Then, you can make money." He became the one who severely criticizes poets following the wise old lady's advice. Even though he could not be a writer, he could live being involved in the literary world.
单词注释：
beehive n. 蜂窝;蜂箱
dreary adj. 沉闷的，枯燥的
hawthorn n. 山楂;山楂树
vigor n. 活力，精力
A long time ago, there was a young man who wanted to be a writer. He wanted to get married and to live writing compositions, but he couldn't discover what he had to write. He couldn't come up with any good stories, and it seemed that everything was already written.
"The men who were born one thousand years ago are very lucky. Even the men who were born one hundred years ago are much luckier than me. Up to then, there were still good subject matters to write about. It is natural that there are no more good subject matters." The young man said complaining.
He became ill because he studied so hard and thought a lot about being a writer. None of the great doctors could cure him, but there was one person who might be able to cure him - a wise old lady.
The Wise Old Lady worked as a gatekeeper unbolting the gate for carriages and horses of a ranch. She also had comprehensive knowledge of many subjects. The young man decided to go and visit her.
Even though there were no trees or flowers around the wise old lady's house, there was a beehive right next to the doors, a small garden where potatoes were growing, and the fence was surrounded by hawthorn. 'How dreary this is!' He thought to himself. But here were the treasures he was searching for.
"Write what you think. Even if they are crumbs of bread, they are still bread. I know why you came here. You want to be a writer, but you can not come up with a great story, can you?" "Yes, everything was already written as stories. Nowadays is different from the old days." The young man answered.
"You're right. A long time ago, people burned wise women like me at the stake, and poets were poor. But nowadays is better than any time. You just can't see those things, because you have such narrow insight. I even doubt whether you can hear. If you have the ability to write, there are endless good subject matters. First, stop thinking about yourself, and try to understand a ray of sunlight."
The young man put on the wise old lady's glasses and hearing aid, and he received and held one of the potatoes that the wise old lady gave to him from the potato patch. After a while, the potato started to talk about itself. After he heard the potato talking, the wise old lady let the young man look at the hawthorn.
The hawthorn also told him a romantic story. The young man was impressed. But the wise old lady seemed to know already, and she took him to a place where there was a beehive. When the young man looked into the hive, it was full of vigor, the bees were all busy.
To freshen the air of their own big factory, bees were flying in a row in every passageway, fanning their wings, working bees were carrying a lot of pollen from outside, and some were maiking honey and beeswax.
"Now let's go to a road and see some travelers." The wise old lady said to the young man tapping his shoulder. "There are too many people here. It is very hard to write the stories of all of them. We'd better go back." He said to her.
"No, go straight into the middle of the crowd, look at them and try to understand what they say with your whole heart and soul. Then, you'll find tremendous things to write about. Oh, and give me back my glasses and hearing aid." The wise old lady told the young man.
"Now, I can't see or hear anything!" The young man took off the glasses and hearing aid and said. "Then, you can never be a writer." The wise old lady shook her head. "Can't I ever be a writer?" "Imagination is not something you can learn and acquire. You should live in another way instead."
The young man was sad about the fact that he could never be a writer, so the wise old lady gave him some advice. "Buy a mask and frown in front of poets. Even if you are impressed by the poem, try to frown. Then, you can make money." He became the one who severely criticizes poets following the wise old lady's advice. Even though he could not be a writer, he could live being involved in the literary world.
单词注释：
beehive n. 蜂窝;蜂箱
dreary adj. 沉闷的，枯燥的
hawthorn n. 山楂;山楂树
vigor n. 活力，精力
