Swiss memories of a lucid dream on the Jungfrau

I put down my eyelids and thoughts in the wooden house, and I can enjoy the tranquility of being in the snow scene outside the window without appreciation, and I can catch the trance of the moment in the fireplace without concentration. What I can't forget is the last descent in Grindelwald. Under the setting sun, I broke into the sea of clouds with the train, and vaguely saw that the north wall of the Eiger Peak above did not touch the snow and broke through the fog, and the golden peak reflected the afterglow into this world that should only be white. I don't want to stay, bypass the crowd who stop to admire, pass through the tunnel under the railway track, pass through the invisible scenery, pass through the path in the forest... The fog buries the familiar road There is no eye-catching scenery to crowd the sight, the snowboard cuts accurately on the snow, and the snow stirred up is noisy and harmonious There is no changing scenery to judge the speed But I know the time when the snowflakes pass through the body, the road under my feet drags the fanaticism away, the breath is stripped away with the cold wind, every nerve is stripped away, I dissipate in the fog, and let the body sink into the sea bottom