History is like the sound of wind coming from a distance, gradually becoming clearer.
She has the tenderness of a girl; she has an impassioned patriotic mind. She, Li Qingzhao, made the literary history of a generation of women.
Looking and searching, deserted.
The moon is facing the window at dawn, and the faint moonlight is as pure as water, quietly passing through the window lattice and quietly flowing on the windowsill. Sometimes when I think about the past, even three glasses of wine and two glasses of light wine cannot make the poet forget the most beautiful relationship.
When it turned warm and cold, Li Qingzhao couldn't even sleep. If he could fall asleep deeply, he could escape the pain in a short period of time. However, the more he thought about it, the harder it became to fall asleep. He simply put on his clothes and leaned on the railing, drinking. Warm yourself up with some wine! Coldness is caused by loneliness, and drinking wine is the same as drinking tea. Being alone will only make you feel extremely desolate. Even if you feel helpless and extremely painful, how can you express it in words?
Holding a glass of light wine, on this day when the clouds were low and the cold wind was strong, she suddenly heard the cry of Lone Goose. The plaintive sound cut through the sky and cut through her again. With a heart that has not yet healed, could it be that Yan'er is so desolate and resentful like the poet who lost her husband? Do you have to face thousands of miles of mountains and dusk snow alone for the rest of your life? Drink the wine mixed with tears and let the tears wash away the fragility in your heart! When the tears were dim, I suddenly felt that the lone goose was the messenger of love for me in the past. Nowadays, the old messenger of love is still there, but Qiuniang and Xiao Lang have long been separated by life and death, and people and ghosts have taken different paths... Things are different and people are different.
Separation in life is the hazy moon and sun, farewell in death is the haggard falling flowers. Looking back suddenly, my eyes are dry, my eyes are filled with tears, and I see my bones, the world is ultimately merciless!
The calmest season is autumn, with half a yellow leaf, a glimpse of old age, old trees and crows, lonely and profound.
At this time, when I saw those yellow flowers, I realized that the flowers were already haggard, and the ground was covered with red. They no longer had the elegance that they had in the past, "after dusk when drinking wine on the east fence, there is a faint fragrance filling the sleeves". In the past, the days when my husband was alive were so wonderful, singing poems and sorting out ancient books, but what about now? The poet himself is the only one left to suffer this endless suffering. The old objects remain the same and the human face is completely changed. "In the old days, the weather and the clothes were the same. There were only feelings, not the same as before." Facing the lone wild goose and the broken chrysanthemum alone, I feel even more desolate. I hold my fragrant cheek in my hand, and my eyes are filled with tears. Afraid of dusk, living in daylight, facing this gloomy sky, how can a person survive until dusk comes? The long time makes loneliness more terrifying. When you are alone, even time begins to slow down, even time slows down. How can this be called "sorrow"?
Finally, I was looking forward to dusk, but it started to rain again, bit by bit, and the thin threads of rain on the sky were as thin as sorrow, which made people even more upset. The sound of patter of rain urges away the falling red flowers, urges away the bright red autumn chrysanthemums, urges the footsteps of autumn to return, and also urges the passing of time and youth.
The sunset is dim, recedes, and sets. Dusk, gorgeous, approaching, rising. Dark red light, black shadow, one's steps, one's thoughts, beautiful things, beautiful, but deserted. Alone myself, strong but lonely.
Walking through history, accompanying the Spring and Autumn Period, after the storm, I feel sad, angry and sad.
Listen to Li Qingzhao's voice and listen to the wind of history!