(1) Listen more.
Author: Zhu
A few years ago, I wandered alone in Xiangxi. I am like a down and out person, with no end. Wandering in the mountains all day, with no clear goal and no fixed place to go. I am obsessed with those strange wilderness. I have been walking in the backcountry. Those poor small counties and remote ancient towns have left my footprints. Chenxi, Fenghuang, Jishou, Guzhang, Yongshun, etc. I have been there several times. The routes I take are all waterways. I went from Huaihua to Yuanling, from Yuanling to Wusu, crossed Fengtan and arrived at Wang Xia Village. Are all remote mountainous areas. But I saw a brand-new sunshine. Those sunshine are pure and mighty, drifting away. I enjoy the gentleness of mountain breeze and the comfort of sunshine all day. Moonlight is soft, like spring, like a little Ranbo slipping through my arm. One day, I stayed in a small town called Fengtan for one night. The windy beach is not a small town, nor is it as big as a small town. Several huts are scattered in the canyon. A dozen families. Diaojiaolou is built by water. There are many stone pillars by the water, all made of wood. There are steep mountains on one side and winding stone roads on the other, which are only three or four feet wide. This is really an isolated place, and there is no mountain road leading to the outside world. Only this long river carries several small covered boats every day.
Fengtan is quiet and quiet. This town doesn't seem to exist in the mountains. If there is no inn, it is better to do something. For a long-distance tourist, the mountain people have their own curious eyes, and there is sunshine in those eyes. Very warm, friendly and mountain-like simplicity and frankness. I like living above fisherman Xiao Mu. The language barrier did not prevent the boatman from bringing me hot tea and stewing a pot of fat and tender carp. Naturally, there is wine, which is not very spicy and not drunk, but it makes me dizzy just right. Her eyes are very bright, she is really the spirit of Shan Ye! During the day, her smile, on the dazzling white mountain road, encourages wild flowers to bloom. At night, her black eyes are lights in the dark.
Fengtan fell asleep There is a moon outside the window. Shan Ye and Youshui are more and more touching. Not to mention how pure and charming the fresh Lang Yue is in static suspension. The mountains in the moonlight make me daydream. I seem to understand that the beauty of the mountain lies not in the splendor during the day, but in the indigo at night, just like Motome under the moon, in such a barren field. The scenery is full of infinite vitality and aura, which is breathtaking. Your water, a crescent moon evokes dreamy luster from the water. A few fishing stars are swaying on the river, like being drunk. Vague, like a fairy tale.
The night is as cool as water. Empty Shan Ye, unitary water in dreams. Bright moon in the sky, good moon. The indigo of the mountain is getting stronger and stronger. DuDu! DuDu! I was shocked all over. The night was quiet, and there was a voice, clear and crisp, coming from far away. DuDu! DuDu! This is the sound of playing. I heard it in my hometown when I was a child. Now there are just no gongs and long shouts of the night watchman. However, I don't listen. This is nature, which is not found in the world. How can my fragile nerves stand such a blow! This is even more refreshing, as cold as a long silk thread, straight through the spinal cord, sinking me into a cool lake, knocking off my drowsiness and knocking down the night again and again.
DuDu! DuDu! The sound faded away, and finally it was no longer heard. I can't understand how such monotonous and cool notes have been ringing in my head until now.
(2) Flower selling sound
Author: Zhu
The town where I live has many famous flowers and unique scents. Qionghua is the strangest, one flower and nine flowers, clean and clear, and there is no similar in the four seas; Paeonia lactiflora, beautiful in appearance, large in quantity and stunning in beauty. Zheng Banqiao's poem "Yangzhou" said: ten miles of flowers are counted as farming. It shows that Yangzhou has many flowers. Being attached to flowers makes farming romantic. Think about it, you can't walk for a long time in a strange field full of fragrant flowers; How comfortable it is to come back! It smells delicious!
Paddle in hand, jacquard on the street. This ancient custom. Along the Slender West Lake, there are dozens of long dikes with ancient willows. Fish and lotus roots are rare, and most people grow flowers for a living. All varieties are common fragrant flowers such as white orchid, jasmine and gardenia. There are also fruits and vegetables in front of the eaves and behind the houses: Chinese cabbage is green, lentils are purple, wicker fences are soft and thin bamboo, and vegetable fields among flowers are bright and beautiful. There is a small village near Hubei, the famous Fort City, where fragrant flowers are planted everywhere. Early in the morning, I picked fresh fragrant flowers, filled them with bamboo blue and sold them along the lake. Spend one yuan to buy two bunches of white orchids, or two gardenias, or buy a bunch of jasmine flowers to wear on your chest, and your hair will look good. Flowers accompany people wherever they go.
Or go painting boats, and more people will buy flowers. In early summer, all the girls in Baocheng Village come to sell flowers on the boat. The original painting is very big. The owner decorated the original boat with many fragrant flowers. However, I saw the railings stacked on top of each other, a string of glittering and translucent jade, all of which were Prynne, Jasmine and Gardenia. The morning breeze blows gently, blowing a boat of incense, making a lake clear. The little girl selling flowers has become a scene in your eyes. You can't help buying her fragrant flowers. Of course you don't know. When you buy her flowers, you also become the scenery on the lake.
The fragrant flowers are sold out, so go shopping to buy new clothes. There are several pairs of watery eyes flashing in the colorful clothing room. Small vest, navel dress, they try it on occasionally, and look at themselves in the mirror, which is very strange, and their faces are red.
Today's Baocheng Village is the site of Yangzhou City in Tang Dynasty. Part of the city wall still exists and still surrounds Baocheng Village. Fragrant flowers are planted in a large area in the village, which is the home of the flower girl. They came from the Tang Dynasty, happily enjoying the twilight of the Tang Dynasty, breathing the warm wind of the Tang Dynasty, and even their clothes were so fresh: they used to be mostly dark blue printed cloth, but now they are light blue tattered cloth, as light blue as a sunny day. They know that no matter how popular the fashion is, it is not as traditional and avant-garde as this set of ancestral blue calico clothes, and it will never go out of fashion.
They walked happily along the road carefree. They grew up among flowers, and their new clothes smelled of flowers.
You wander around for a living. You come to this small town and stay alone in the Xiao Mu building by the lake. It was raining in Mao Mao outside the window, and it rained all night. The rain is fine, and the original painting on the lake has moved lightly. When you were still on the pillow, there was a sound like water on the boat. Your heart suddenly trembled. It's the little girl who sells flowers. You jumped up in shock and looked at the refreshing sound outside the window. Finally, you met the little girl selling flowers with a basket on the boat. You suddenly feel very moved. The girl's selling flowers gradually moistens your dry heart, like a drizzle. You feel that the burden of life, all the troubles and sorrows are thrown out of the window by you and melted by the girl selling flowers. What a beautiful scenery! Birds are singing, flowers are selling, bright clothes are floating in front of us, and the sun rises at half the window.
(3) The sound of tamping anvil
Author: Zhu
I like reading at night. Reading some ancient poems in autumn night can cultivate one's sexual desire. Noisy during the day, quiet at night, calm, a cup of dragon balls and a column of sandalwood. The bushes in front of the window are littered with leaves, and the light that leaks in is full of books. There was no sound, only moonlight streamed like silver and cigarettes curled up. My thoughts are profound. But this autumn night is not quiet. My study is very narrow. The advantage is that there is a wild vegetable field outside the window. If spring comes, although it is not as fragrant as apricot flowers, a bed of leeks in spring is beautiful in green. Like an autumn night, cool and empty. It's getting quieter. However, the more small and uneasy voices come to my mind. Moonlight is gurgling everywhere, autumn insects are humming outside the wall, and chrysanthemums are stretching on the windowsill. How wonderful these soft and soothing sounds are! Like some tentacles, they reach into my consciousness in detail.
It is late at night. There was the sound of rammer anvil. The sound makes me uneasy. Those lonely, helpless and sad anvil sounds floated from ancient Tang poetry and Song poetry. The dark night is like a cold hole, and I hear whispers in this black hole. One by one, sighing and whispering in their hearts; The feeling is back behind me, ringing in every corner of the library, beating every nerve of mine and making my hair stand on end!
Anvil is actually beating clothes. Whenever you open any classical poem, you can hear the sound of stamping an anvil. The sound of tamping anvil is monotonous and lonely. After the Jin Dynasty, people often thought of poems as titles, and used them as word cards, such as Dao Lianzi, Night Yi Dao, Sheng Bang Qi and so on. This is related to textiles made in ancient times. In ancient times, the most common raw material for making clothes was hemp. The cloth made of hemp is thick and hard, and it must be repeatedly beaten on the stone anvil with a wooden pestle to soften it before it can be made into clothes to wear.
A pestle is a round pestle and an anvil is a stone pad. Women work in the fields during the day, and the sound of smashing clothes usually appears at night, under the low hut and under the dim light. It's all lonely women who smash clothes. Their husbands or lovers are guarding the border, as far away as Wan Li. Who knows? Who can stand the long night and endless suffering? All the worries, with the sound of beating clothes, made that round of Leng Yue thin and bright. Let my mood, let the bushes in front of my window and this moonlit night cool.
Although this voice is monotonous, it touches the souls of countless literati because it appears at night and is issued by countless women. Therefore, the sound of the anvil has been given a particularly rich content. In the poems of past dynasties, the appearance of rammed anvil has always been associated with autumn night, loneliness, missing women, melancholy, insomnia, missing and so on.
Li Bai wrote in "Midnight Wu Ge": A bright moon hangs high in the capital, and it is tempered.
Cen Can's poem says: A solitary lamp illuminates a guest's dream, while a cold pestle smashes homesickness.
Du Fu's "Yi Dao" says: I also know that I will not return, and Qiu Lai will wipe the anvil. It's almost dusk, and I'm surprised at this situation Let's just say you're tired of smashing clothes. Exhausted boudoir, you listen to the empty voice.
Du Fu's Poem of Dressing in Clothes is a masterpiece of the poems of dressing in clothes in previous dynasties. Lovers guarding the frontier fortress, Guanshan Wan Li, are even more memorable. The sound of smashing clothes has become another language, a silent complaint buried in the heart of a woman. The woman in the boudoir, full of affection, yearning, loss and helplessness, was dragged into a thousand feet of hair.
The night is dead. The tea leaves curled up on the box. Inexplicable boredom, endless loneliness of smashing clothes, ringing in loneliness, shaking off everything that has passed away and come back to life, scattered on the bushes in front of the window. There are lights in the distance, few and far between, like some distant stories.
Surprisingly, Li Yu, who lives in the deep palace, also wrote a poem "Opera Troupe", which is said to be the earliest poem of literati. The word says: the deep courtyard is quiet, the small courtyard is empty, there are intermittent cold anvil and intermittent wind. But people can't sleep at night, and the sound of the moon reaches the curtain.
The late master is worthy of being a great lyricist. The sound of others beating clothes at night is handy, which has become a wonderful portrayal of their sleepless and sad mood on autumn nights. A master is a master after all.
No sleep in autumn night. Dreams are also cold.
(The Voice of Bewitching the Soul won the first "Zhu Ziqing Literature Award")