I happened to be at leisure for a while, and it was raining, so I flipped through the books at home and suddenly caught a glimpse of the Song poetry reader I brought. This book is too small, only the size of my palm. Tossing and turning, countless forgotten poems climbed into my heart. Therefore, the origin, writing those years that were confused by poetry, finally settled down with life, and finally became such a vulgar thing far from poetry. One day, it was caught by some unexpected poems and stubbornly let me turn back. It turns out that that kind of mood has never been far away.
[Song of Luoyang Girls]
I like this word because of a person, because of a long forgotten past.
I think of the sky when I was twelve or thirteen years old, the pedestrians coming at that time, the laughter passing by, the branches on the high fence ... I remember the sunshine when I was twelve or thirteen years old. If I squint my sour eyes, I can definitely see the route of sunshine. In the dense canopy, the sun is so direct that it won't be abrupt, but it makes people feel a little dazzling, and the roadside is gorgeous.
At that moment, I must have a book in my hand, or romance, or martial arts. I always walk along with a book in my hand, immersed in the world of books. When I am tired, I stop and feel that even the flowers and plants on the roadside are talking to me, so I will touch them stupidly and let them know that I heard their whispers. At this time, I will pay attention to the students on the roadside, and some are expecting to think about whether they will meet anyone.
On the first day of school at the age of twelve, I saw a boy with beautiful eyes sitting behind him. His thin figure makes his head a little heavy, so his neck looks particularly slender here. He is wearing a white shirt, and there are curved moon marks in his eyes when he smiles. At this time, I suddenly understood the meaning of beauty. When I went back that day, I knew that I had fallen into a secret love, but I promised myself that I would keep this secret.
All the girls in the class like him. Some girls are very explicit and take the initiative to stay and write blackboard newspapers with him, or take the initiative to help him copy notes. I am a little proud that I was so rude to him on the surface, and finally he even copied my class notes for me so that I could continue to bury myself in class and read books. In fact, sometimes, I will see his figure through the reflection of my glasses. At that time, I always felt that the characters in the book seemed to come alive. Until one day, my best friend told me that I liked him and asked me to send a message. I bravely agreed. In fact, isn't this my temptation to him?
The note sank into the sea, and in the end they only agreed to be friends. I continued to read casual books on the playground, and then looked at the girls' attentions to him in the distance, thinking that I would not join in the fun. In fact, now that I think about it, I am afraid to go near him because of my inner inferiority.
On my birthday, I received several gifts. Strangely, I forgot some things that good girls gave me. I only remember that a boy gave me a copy of the lyrics and a book-an ordinary book similar to a student's exercise book with his name printed on it. After opening it, I wrote a long poem "Song of Luoyang Girls" in beautiful print.
There is a girl from Luoyang in the door across the street who can face people over 15 years old.
Her master rode his fast horse, jade bit the reins, and the maid, silver carp.
Her painting pavilion faces the red tower, and the cornices are pink and green peach blossoms and willows.
Silk scarves cover seven fragrant cars, and Jane fans cover nine flowers.
Her master, status and wealth and the seeds of life are more generous than the richest people in ancient times.
He likes this girl from humble origins, teaches her to dance and gives his coral tree to almost anyone.
When his nine soft lights went out, the wind of dawn began to blow, nine small flying flowers.
Between dances, she hardly has time to sing, and her makeup is just incense.
All the people she knows in the town are rich and extravagant. She visits the owner of the happiest building day and night.
Who will notice this girl from Yue, with a white face, humble and poor, washing silk by the river alone? .
I've seen it many times, but I still don't understand. Then I tried to understand the meaning of this gift, but I finally gave up because I couldn't understand it. I am a little close to another boy. For the boy I don't care about, I can joke with each other more freely and even call each other brothers. So there are more gossips about us in the class.
I avoided the inquiring eyes of many students, including his. My heart was sewn on by myself. When I read it carefully, my heart was full of the words "don't say" until the end of time gradually came. At that time, the teacher suddenly searched for books, asked all the students to leave the classroom, and then searched for idle books in the schoolbag. As the monitor, he naturally undertook the task of searching for books. In my pleading eyes, he found a thick stack of books in his schoolbag. At this time, my eyes have turned into resentment and piled up a few words. Then my memory was distorted. I remember him crying. I don't know whether it has something to do with me or the accusations of other students, but I didn't see that boys have so many tears, so I asked myself with some disdain and some doubts: Is he really the perfect boy I imagined?
Come to think of it, it was just my imagination of him from beginning to end. After many years, I suddenly remembered the past when he stole a set of Dream of Red Mansions from home to show me. I was fascinated by that set of books, because the mentality of children at that time was in the same strain as books. Many years later, I heard Jiang Xun say that the Red Chamber is the kingdom of youth, and then I realized that it was really because the book was in my mood.
There are poems hidden in the pencil box, chewing the touching acacia family, wild and unrestrained. When I was young, I carved poems into flesh and blood and read them with my heartbeat. In my next dream, I dreamed that I flew into his house and saw my diary spread out on the desk. However, the familiar handwriting made me unable to see clearly, only remembering two vague words: "There was nothing, where did the dust come from?" Later, I looked through the class guest book and found that the message he gave me was those poems: "Bodhi is not a tree, mirror is not a stage." There is nothing, so where is the dust? " In fact, the mirror has been dusty for a long time, and everyone has changed and is covered with dust.
Many years later, I was hit by the past when I passed the alley. Suddenly remembered the last meeting before the end of no.1 middle school. I met him by bike in the alley with a book in my hand. I couldn't say a word when I met unexpectedly, but he smiled and said hello, and then I pretended to be happy to say goodbye.
"How are you? Goodbye. "
How many sentences in life begin with this sentence and end with this sentence? Up to now, of course, memories are just memories, and I prefer memories. A song by a girl in Luoyang is still a poem I can't understand, but it reminds me of my child's mentality. Although no longer, it is still pure.