On the Double Ninth Festival, Du climbed alone.
This day, autumn. Du looked up and saw the deep blue sky in front of him. From time to time, there was a shrill cry of an ape in his ear. Looking ahead, there are mountains and lakes, and there are islands in the lake. The island is deserted and looks very desolate. There are several birds hovering on the island. Golden leaves fall slowly, and the wind rolls endlessly along the Yangtze River. Autumn is also sad for Du Fu's people. He was ill and went up the mountain alone. I thought, "well, whenever the Double Ninth Festival, my brother, it would be great if the family climbed the mountain together, but now, I am the only one climbing alone, so I am very lonely." Now, I think, many people are together! Flee to Sichuan. The leader has added a lot of white hair. I'm sick and don't even drink. Life is getting worse every day. "
At sunset, Du sighed and slowly left. ......
The Yangtze River is very autumn. Did it blow the clouds in the sky away? More and more blue sky seems to be more and more noble, but I seem to be more and more small. There was an ape whining in the distance, and I felt lonely and sad at once. Looking back, the white sand beach of the Yangtze River seeps into Baiqiu and flows downstream, surrounded by small mounds on the background of the river. Obviously. In the distance, a bird is hovering. Is it looking for its way home? Autumn leaves keep falling, and everyone is in the late autumn of life. It's been a hundred years! The Yangtze River keeps rolling eastward, and Wan Li is drifting, which is infinitely sad, because this man's life is endless, and the life of the river is really too short. I'm just a poor passer-by in the autumn of Wan Li. Now that I think about it, I am over half a year old and my future is uncertain. Friends around me left me one by one. Loneliness has a powerful attack on the heart, and I find myself alone on a high-profile board. The fighting finally died down. I want to go back to thirteen years ago, when my family left, but now my temple is gray and withered. One by one. Maybe in the near future, someone will leave, and I will even stop drinking the wine of illness for decades.