Expanded prose:
-, Liu Yong Yu Lin Ling·Farewell
The cold wind,
The willow leaves are fluttering lightly,
Brush out the fragrance of clear Yang soul and weed pond water.
On the lonely shore,
The window curtains are haunted,
After the rain,
The cicadas chirp even more sadly.
With the helpless sadness of the flowing water.
Yes, we are leaving.
In this desolate Qingqiu Festival, an unknown night. The afterglow of the setting sun after the rain sprinkled as much as possible on his pale face, but he had no intention of watching the sunset in Bianjing where he was about to part.
A pair of gloomy eyes symbolically looked into the distance, where he was going to wander. There was reluctance and confusion in his eyes. It's not that he can't let go of the glitz and bright lights of the bustling city here, but he is attached to the girl he loves deeply. The lights in Bianjing were not even as bright as one of her eyes!
She was pouring the wine, very slowly. Slowly until tears drop into the wine glass. She was even more reluctant to say goodbye to Liu Lang, and they were separated from each other from now on. Of course San Bian knows this. He didn't dare to speak, fearing that if he opened his mouth, his emotional balance would be pierced, and he was afraid that she would be even more heartbroken.
The boats going down the river always don't know how to waste time, and the boats arrive early.
Liu Yong finally got a little excited. He lowered his head to see the wine on the table, picked up the warm wine glass, and drank it down with a sour feeling in his heart. At this time, no matter how strong the wine is, it is just like water.
He wanted to support his heavy body, but his legs could hardly support his tired heart. She quickly stood up, supported him, and held his hand. My heart is full of retention and reluctance to let go. But I couldn't say it out loud. Only tears expressed her feelings. They are lingering tears, moist and hot.
How can Sanbian hold back the tears of pain at this time? He couldn't say anything and didn't know what to say. He simply couldn't give her a long-term vow or even a small agreement. He couldn't give her a better future now. There is hatred in my heart.
This is an evening when the moon is missing, a throat-shaking evening. How many broken hearts are buried in this vast and vast land, who can count them, and who has the heart to count them? !
The sky is really getting dark, and the surroundings have begun to be shrouded in a dreamy night.
He has to go, get out of here. Go to those strange places. Go see the monotonous beauty, go to the place where no one can talk to you. Start your own wandering. He embarks on this boat that is getting further and further away from his lover. Only then did he realize that the most beautiful woman in the world was on the far away shore, forever being collected in tears.
Expansion of prose
2. Expansion of Li Qingzhao's "Slow Voice"
Eternal Song of Sadness
Invasion of Jin Bing, Northern Song Dynasty perish.
My husband, who had similar interests, died of illness in a foreign country.
While crossing to the south for refuge, all the epigraphic and stone artifacts he had collected during his half-life were lost.
When I got up in the middle of the night, the wind was biting outside the house.
What are you looking for? In such a deserted night, it is inevitable to cry alone.
The feeling of big and small beads falling on a jade plate. Singing repeatedly, lingering in depression, tactful and sad, it is like hearing a very sad person talking in a low voice, and the sad mood lingers for a long time.
I'm in a bad mood, and with this warm-to-cold weather, I can't even sleep. If she could fall asleep deeply, she could escape the pain for a short period of time, but the more she wanted to fall asleep, the harder it became, so she naturally thought of her late husband. Whatever! With such a fate, what else is unbearable? Put on your clothes and get up, drink some wine to warm yourself up and talk about it. But coldness is caused by loneliness, and drinking wine is the same as drinking tea. Being alone will only make you feel particularly desolate.
While holding a glass of light wine, on a dark day with low clouds and a strong cold wind, I suddenly heard a mournful cry from a lone goose. That plaintive sound cut through the sky and then again. With her unhealed wound, the white-headed mandarin duck flew with her husband. Alas, Yan'er, you scream so sadly and resentfully. Are you like me, lost in old age? Like me, do you have to face thousands of miles of mountains and dusk snow alone for the rest of your life? In the midst of random thoughts and misty tears, I suddenly felt that the lone goose was the one that had delivered love letters to me before. Helplessly, the flowers fall away, and the familiar swallow returns.
Those chrysanthemums are also haggard and yellow, and they no longer have the elegance that they had in the past, when "dongli drinks wine after dusk, and there is a faint fragrance filling the sleeves". In the past, the days when my husband was alive were so wonderful, with poems and poetry, and sorting out ancient books, but what about now? I was left alone to suffer from this boundless loneliness. The old objects are still there, but the faces are completely different. Facing the lone wild goose and the broken chrysanthemum alone, I feel even more desolate. Holding her cheeks in her hands, tears filled her eyes. Afraid of dusk and endure the day. While she was lamenting the fallen flowers and worrying about herself, it happened to rain again; the raindrops hit the sycamore leaves, making a crackling sound, which did not stop until dusk. Facing this gloomy sky, how can a person survive until dusk? The length of time makes loneliness even scarier. Being alone, even time seems to start to slow down. But to her, who was miserable, it sounded like it was hitting her heart. Every drop, every sound was so strong. It struck and shook her heart, making her unable to restrain herself!
We finally waited until dusk, but it started to rain again. Little by little, pattering, the boundless rain is as fine as sorrow, which makes people's hearts even more upset. Then I saw the two sycamore trees outside the house. Although they were in the wind and rain, they supported and relied on each other. Compared with the two, I was much more miserable alone. The lone wild goose and the ruined chrysanthemums and sycamores, everything before her eyes made her sad one after another until she could no longer add any more!
Scenes such as the sudden change from warm to cold, the strong wind in the evening, the passing of old geese, the ground full of yellow flowers, the autumn rain of parasol trees, etc. are all filled with her miserable sorrow, but is her sorrow more than these? She has too many worries. How can the pain of one's life, the pain of family and country, the disease of loneliness, etc. be included and summarized with just one word "sorrow"?
Thousands of years have passed, and the feeling of loneliness will always linger in the poet's heart, and it also ripples in our hearts.
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