Who knows that jinghua is tired?
Zhou Bangyan.
He is not Du Zimei, and will not keep the piety of "worrying about Tang gaozu in poor years and sighing hot in the intestines" and write the desolation in troubled times; He is not Su Zizhan. After experiencing infinite frustration, he can still throw away his good wishes of "thousands of miles away". He is not even the graceful Nalan Rong Ruo, nor does he have the eternal sad word "autumn wind painting fan". Even among Xing He's poets, he doesn't have much of his own personality. The content of his ci is nothing more than traditional themes such as the love between men and women, the hate of parting, the sadness of life, and the social life reflected is also very narrow, just as Wang Guowei commented that "there are few creative talents". Even this poem "Ruilongyin", which has always been regarded as the masterpiece of Zhou Ci, is only "a peach blossom, an old song is refurbished" in Zhou Ji's place.
However, nostalgia is people's eternal love. Even Yuan Zhen, who can be said to be ungrateful, wrote the eternal swan song "Once the sea was difficult for water, it was amber forever". It turns out that fish are passing by, crayons are a new topic, but writing heartbroken sentences is endless. Then, I realized that it was just another name for homesickness-a gorgeous and profound sadness, whether it was pouring out from my thoughts or mourning. Only in this way, the profundity, exquisiteness and artistic stability of Zhou Ci are no longer important in the face of the eternal theme of "full spring exploration and injury".
On Zhangtai Road, I also saw withered plum buds and tried to spend peach trees. Word-of-mouth is strange to others, and it has returned to the old place.
Poets look for spring, poets look for the old, early warblers fight for warmth, and the beautiful scenery of mountains and rivers comes late. He stepped on the flowing spring and came to this bustling song and dance venue again. Red plums have fallen, and pink peach buds are eager to bloom their own beauty under the touch of warm wind. Pink moths, beautiful songs and dances, and the smoke piled up by willows outside the courtyard show the prosperity of the capital-it is just a gentle hometown where childe and grandson play. And all this is just the excitement of the past. This talented person and beautiful woman laughed in the song and dance square in the autumn moon and spring breeze, and now it is deserted and silent. Only the swallows returning from the south are busy building nests, looking for them and insisting on living in the old yard.
I stood still because I was so stupid that I looked at the door at first sight. The invasion of the morning is shallow and the palace is yellow, the wind is full of sleeves, and you smile.
The poet stood in this deja vu spring, standing silently but feeling dejected. A charming little girl, coming out of the good old days. She is not Yi An, a rich girl who looks back on her childhood by leaning against the door. She is not the kind of poetic talent who easily sings "If catkins don't rise from the wind". She is not an ordinary broom, holding the sadness and emptiness of countless lonely maids to the emperor. Her beauty is not as good as that of Yang Yuhuan, the imperial concubine who explains the infinite hatred of spring breeze, or even as good as that ordinary woman who picks lotus flowers on both sides of her face. However, the beauty at first sight is always the most touching. Emotion, originally only takes a moment. Peeping at her door is naive, lively and naive. What's more, the euphemistic laughter, such as pearls and jade falling on a silver plate, touched the poet's heart.
Liu Lang went to visit his neighbor and look for Li. At the same time, he sings and dances, but his hometown, Qiu Niang, has the same voice and price. Drink a pen and write a pen, remember that sentence in Yantai. Who knows the company, the famous garden is drinking, and the east market is walking? Things are going well in Gu Hong. Tanchun is covered in injuries. The gold content of official willow is low. Riding late, the slender pond is raining. Heartbroken hospital, a curtain of wind.
Many years later, the poet revisited the old place like Liu Lang, looking for the singer's former residence and neighborhood. Most of the girls who were full of charm and domineering in those days passed away and have never been heard from again. Only the charm and sound price of Qiu Niang remained unchanged. Looking back on that year, two hearts were tied together, enjoying the haze and enviing others. The poet appreciates the beauty and innocence of the singer, and the singer also admires the poet's talent. Poetry is a tribute, and now I still remember Li Yuxi's wonderful poems. However, at this moment, who will accompany the poet to indulge in colorful gardens? Who else will follow him for a leisurely walk in the Dongcheng countryside and talk until dusk? Don't blame Zhao Wei sigh. "Where are the people who come to play with the moon? The scenery is vaguely like last year, and it is not strange for Du Mu to ask, "On the moonlit night of the Twenty-four Bridges, where do jade people teach flute?" It turns out that the willow branches on the moon and the people who meet at dusk are just beautiful things that have passed away, while the spring waves under the bridge are still there, and the stunning photos are already there.
Out of the water, the dream is too hasty.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Gu Hong's past is over. Who would have expected that many years later, poets would carefully look for spring, but all they care about is to bid farewell to sadness and stop hating.
Next to the boulevard, the willow branches of one tree hang low, like silk thread, fluttering in the evening breeze, which still affects the hearts of poets. He suddenly woke up from a dusty dream, only to find that the color had invaded four times. So in the twilight, I whipped my horse and wanted to go home. I know how to leave people, hate people, and worry about falling into the pond. At this time, there is only a curtain of catkins fluttering gently in this charming old home, chasing the prosperity before loneliness.