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在国内时,“和尚”对我来说是个既熟悉又陌生的概念。然而,想不到我却和和尚很有缘。抵达万象时,首先见到的人,竟是一队队的和尚。那是一个雾气蒙蒙的清晨,我们刚下汽车,忽听阵阵钟声响起,我们不知怎么回事,都好奇地四处张望。只见一队队和尚,身着黄色袈裟,挎着饭钵,走上街头。而善男信女们也是成群结队,捧着蒸熟的糯米饭,跪在街边,当和尚们走过时,就把一团团的糯米饭依次放入和尚的饭钵里。而和尚们则双掌合于胸前,为施主念诵经文。晨风吹拂,橘黄色袈裟飘飘,为和尚们平添了几分仙气。诵经声肃穆悠扬,洗涤着颗颗凡心,我被这奇特的景观所吸引,默默注视着眼前的和尚,细细聆听异乡的佛音。
At home, “monk” is a familiar and unfamiliar concept to me. However, I can not think I have a great affinity with the monk. Upon arriving in Vientiane, the first person to see was a monk of a team. It was a foggy morning, we just got off the car, suddenly heard the bursts of bell sounded, we do not know how else, are curious to look around. I saw a team of monks, dressed in yellow scumbags, leaving a bowl, took to the streets. The good men and women are also in droves, holding steamed sticky rice, kneeling on the street, when the monks who walked, put a round of sticky rice followed by monks in the rice bowl. The monks are both hands together in front of the chest, chanting scriptures for the donor. Morning breeze, fluttering orange fluttering, adding a bit for the monk Xianxi. Solemn melodious chanting, washing all hearts, I was attracted by this peculiar landscape, silently watching the monk in front, listen carefully to the foreign land of Buddhism.