Reading Check-In + Day Sixteen + Appreciation of Fine Foreign Prose + Reading Notes
Welcome to the land of water, the land of flowers, the land of pastures: the Netherlands. If you have longed to go there, then after reading Čapek's "Pastoral Poetry," it feels as though you have arrived on the Mongolian grasslands, where rivers crisscross one after another through the green plains. The Netherlands of a century ago seems to have been one vast pasture, without the slightest trace of the city. Between the author's lines, you can almost hear the sound of cattle and sheep grazing. In the author's eyes, cows can think; their bearing is composed, and full of dignity. Emerald grassland and blue sky are woven together.
Quiet and pitch-dark, the Netherlands lies beneath the light veil of night. Horses, cattle, and sheep are all silent; the earth has only its soft breathing, while in the distance a lighthouse blinks faintly. In the author's Netherlands, people are nowhere to be seen; only nature pours forth. I only want to lie down on this green expanse of grass, let the stars scatter over my body, and rise and fall with the breathing of the earth.