The vast desert and surging water are not surprising in the world. Only such a bay in the desert, such a quiet place in the sand, such a desolate scene and such a fall behind a high slope can win the rhythm of heaven and earth, and the ingenuity of nature is intoxicating. Thus, life, the world and history are the same. Calm the floating noise, calm the fanaticism, dull the high dance, and light the surge. Only in this way can life be wise, the world exquisite and history fascinating.
Life is not always sunny, not always full of spring, not always full of birds and flowers, not always poetic, sometimes stormy, sometimes cloudy, and sometimes something unexpected is coming, which is unbearable. Life is sometimes more like an endless desert, and some seem to be flat. As soon as you step on it, your feet will be loose with a little force, and they will sink with a heavy force.
All we have to do is recognize the true meaning of life, and then climb, climb and climb forever! The rhyme of snow, like a lingering nocturne, swept my lonely heart, cool and beautiful. That gentle thunder, that iron bar, is like my homesickness.
Whether traveling around the world on my back or leaving my relatives to make a living outside, the wind, frost, rain and snow of nature often inadvertently remind me of my homesickness. Every breeze can always shake my heavy memory; Every drizzle can always infiltrate my deep thoughts; And every snowflake floats by, always dancing my endless lovesickness.
Acacia is like snow. Snowflakes flying all over the sky are like my thoughts, which are unforgettable and lasting forever. There is no need to express anything deliberately, just like my eternal love. We are still busy when there is no snow, but we feel warm when it snows. New Year cards are not enough to download thoughts, and telephone calls can't comfort the longing heart. There is always a kind of expectation, and there is always a kind of concern, which has turned into a longing for boat tickets, air tickets and bus tickets. With hurried steps, I set foot on the road home to feel the love, the depth, the warmth and the sweetness.
Snowflakes don't pursue color, but white makes everyone feel the deepest meaning of brilliance.
It's also like a deep feeling that I can't turn away. Clouds are footprints in the sky. )
For the sky, clouds are its footprints. The sky goes around the village, leaving footprints hanging over the village.
In this wonderful and warm place, the sun will never be hot, because it can't bear to disturb such a quiet village, just secretly hiding behind the clouds and watching curiously. Those clouds, like a flying butterfly, lie quietly over the village, very peaceful, sweet and charming ... Perhaps, in their view, this village is just a huge flower with inexhaustible honey juice. Sometimes, the plane comes to join in the fun. When it glides over the village like an eagle, a long hada will appear in the sky, floating gently and then landing on the wings of a butterfly.
What a beautiful picture this is. Cicada's wings are as transparent as those of a girl, and people can never reach its core.
When I got up in the morning, the dew wet the sun. This time is suitable for doing anything: cutting bare water plants once, hoeing watermelon fields once, picking a well water … I can do whatever I want. Because there is no sound when cooking cigarettes at this time, and the watchdog has no sound. At such times, you can't help but relax and let yourself think nothing, just like a baby lying in its mother's arms, letting time flow quietly in a kind of warmth. Don't shout at this time, or you will destroy the peace here. Also, don't look up at the sky at this time, because the sky at this time is as beautiful as a cocktail, which will make you indulge in the fields or crops.
At noon, the villagers have no habit of taking a nap. In their view, every sunny day may become heavy food. Beans have to be picked, garlic has been bolting, cattle and sheep are hungry, firewood is insufficient, and the trench behind the house has to be cleaned ... these are all waiting for people to do. Anyway, the sun is very soft, and it is not tired to have a rest; It's just that I am really tired. A bowl of cold well water poured down my stomach, and I was cold and tired all over.
When night falls, the smoke from the kitchen chimney fills the village like milk, and the air is full of the smell of firewood burning. At this time, the countryside must be boiling up. After school, children, whether playing on the grass beach or hay, running around the mountain with their dogs, or helping their father lead the cattle and sheep, will bring their cheerful laughter to the extreme; After the elderly mother-in-law or young daughter-in-law rises from the kitchen, they quickly run out of the house, or sprinkle dust on their bodies or set up a megaphone with their hands, opening their throats and calling their children home loudly; At this time, cows, sheep and dogs also join in the fun, or shout loudly, or enjoy themselves. All kinds of voices are intertwined, which is the most essential voice in the countryside and the movement of life.
The village is very small, as small as a handful of rice, a vegetable and a ray of sunshine. A down-to-earth day, firmly grasped by the villagers, overflowed through the fingers, and there was still some visible happiness. The village is so big, my pen is at a loss, and the sum of countless sentences is less than the weight of a square foot of soil; Because, I am a bud growing in that soil.
In fact, the village is very old, like a painting. The vast majority of people here have been guarding the land and mountains all their lives. Perhaps, the mountain is too high for them to walk out; Perhaps, the land is too fertile to keep their footsteps. In a year, as long as there is enough food to eat and a big fat pig is slaughtered during the Chinese New Year, happiness will bloom on their faces. Some old people in the village have not left Fiona Fang for 20 miles. A county road has been built in the village, but there are still more than a dozen old people in the village who have never taken the bus. They guarded the quiet village until they died. After they drive the crane westward, the soul will only float over the village, or it will become a cloud over the village.
One year, my cousin who worked in Guangzhou went back to the village to visit her aunt. Just entering the house, as soon as he saw his aunt, he leaned on her shoulder and tears of happiness came to his eyes. People in their twenties and thirties cry like a child in a dog's tail hat in front of their mother. Then, he ate a big bowl of white rice and a big bowl of fat pot meat, as if to swallow the whole hometown. Aunt watched him eat, and the gullies on her face were all clean.
There are several streams flowing around the village forever. When they came out of the cave called Longdong, they sang songs and ran around the village. I love this place so much, or I just wander around the village, just like the clouds above the village. When I woke up, the next day it was still hovering over the village, dancing. ...
When my cousin left, he stopped when he passed the stream. He looked up at the clouds in the sky, his lips wriggled, trying to say something, but he choked up again. For a long time, he leaned down and drank enough water. Then, I took out the military kettle I carried with me and poured it all over the floor. He said he would take the water back to Guangzhou and drink it slowly. When my cousin filled the water, his expression was dignified. He filled it, poured it out and filled it again. Then, tighten the cover firmly.
A kettle, full, full of hometown! The sky of a village is covered with footprints!
Appreciate:
I will think of you in the floating clouds.
Clouds are footprints in the sky, and wanderers care about their hometown!
The sky is clear and transparent, with blue and no dross! The village is quiet and harmonious, inclusive and warm and harmonious!
Clouds are elegant, but no matter how they float, they can't float out of the sky; A wanderer is a wanderer, but no matter how wandering, he can't run out of his hometown.
Yes, wanderers are floating clouds, and our hometown is our sky.
The novel metaphor is a kind of silk texture, smooth but not greasy, beautiful but not demon. It not only brings us to a colorful imaginary world, but also expresses the theme of the article tactfully: lingering homesickness is the most sincere emotion and cry of every wanderer.
From the morning with dew to the sunny noon, and then to the smoky evening, the village is full of happy voices from quiet to noisy, from work to rest. Beautiful and quiet villages nurture hardworking and simple people. What a philosophical sentence: "If the sky were to fall, it would be firmly in the hands of the villagers". Living honestly, simply and fully is the true meaning of life.
The beautiful land in my hometown is our eternal home and the eternal concern of wanderers. ...
Throughout the text, the word "happiness" is revealed between the lines: happy village, beautiful picture scroll, kind folks, peaceful life and the soul of returning home. ...
Source: Shayuan Tibetan Spring