A lake as simple as truth

Because I like water, I like to see all the rivers, lakes and seas. In my life, at home and abroad, I have seen many beautiful and memorable lakes: some are full of mountains covering the moon, coupled with the lights of the lakeside tower, which are as bright as a fairyland; some are green on a distant island, the waves are lapping on the shore, and they are as magnificent as the sea; some are surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and the lake is as deep as amethyst under the cold clouds. Some are covered in the jungle, flowers are sandwiched on the shore, and the lake is bluer than the blue sky and more green than Jasper. These lakes can be painted with a pen and described with prose or prose poetry. Only in the dusk of November 11 last year, I saw Lake Lazlev more than 30 miles northwest of Leningrad in the Soviet Union, which is indescribable! The lake is neither deep nor large, it is a pair of sister swamps-Lazrev, which means flooding in Russian-- the day I went was the evening of winter fog, there was neither sunset nor moonlight starlight, the lake was silent, surrounded by high reeds, and could not see the edge in the deep mist. But the impression it gave me-- I said the impression was wrong, because I could not say that I was appreciating it, but it was itself. The most beautiful, greatest, most simple, "as simple as truth" lake in the world surrounded me in it. Ever since I saw it, I can never forget it. It is not a lake for people to enjoy and play, it is a lake visited by tens of thousands of people all over the world, because it was not long after August 1917, when a cannon went off on board the Avre ship. I have personally scorched one of the greatest, most simple, "as simple as the truth" man-Lenin! The woods by the lake used to be the "green office" of this great man. The "ceiling" of this office is the blue sky, and the "floor" is soft sand and thick fallen leaves. The desk and chair in the office are two tall and low tree roots, and in this greatest and most modest office, Lenin wrote a genius book, "the State and the Revolution," and other classic documents. Not far from the desk, two branches supported a crossbar, from which hung an iron pot. I will never forget this iron kettle, because it is exactly the same as the iron kettle commonly used in Beijing. It is the black, most ordinary and plain kettle that can be seen on the stove of every household. Just under the iron pot, Lenin set up a dead branch, lit a fire, and then went back to his desk, meditating, waiting for the boiling sound of the kettle. At the back of the woods, a spire-roofed hut of thick grass for only one person to lie down was the night shelter of the lawn mower, Ivanov (Lenin's pseudonym). He writes in the middle of the day, takes a walk by the lake in the early morning and dusk. Not only did he meet with his closest comrades-in-arms by the quietest, most ordinary, most simple lake, and planned how to set off this earth-shattering October red storm, but he was also by the lake, full of reeds and seldom visited, enjoying the sunset and the new moon alone.

What a happy lake it is, what a most simple lake commensurate with the great Lenin!

During my visit to the Soviet Union for more than two months, behind all the people I saw, the characters I came into contact with, and everything I read and heard, there stood a giant: a broad, protruding forehead, broad shoulders, wise eyes, and a kind mouth. Like ordinary people, he is most respected and loved by them. He is not affected, he is not reserved, he has no hobby. He has no time to think of himself. The place where he lives, whether in the Smolney Palace, the Kremlin, the General's Villa in Gork. His bedroom, dining room and office are all so small and simple. He can write on the most ordinary bedroom dresser and sit for a long time on a small rattan chair. Across from his desk, he prepares comfortable sofas and chairs for visitors. Everything makes us deeply realize that the person who can best serve the people is always the one who can forget himself the most. The great Lenin thought of Russia and the tens of thousands of oppressed and exploited working people in the world completely, naturally, and all the time. He used the most careful thinking day and night to plan the happiest future for them. I often wonder if he has ever thought about himself in his broad, protruding forehead.

The thought of the happy and free life of 1/3 people in the world today is based on the simple life of this great man, and the remains of his simple life are even more precious. Among them, what I will never forget is his broad and noble green office full of wild interest, and a simple "as simple as truth" lake next to the office.