Yuyao News Network1June 10 8:47
It is said that it feels good on the river!
Another river is full of smoke and rain. The misty rain on the river is like smoke and fog, picturesque! Like a flying cloud belt, like a fairy with long sleeves and good dancing. ...
Several fishing boats arrived late in the twilight, like water lilies on the river.
The wind brought the old boat songs that fishermen could not finish singing. A little fishing fire, like a fairy inadvertently scattered stars, flashes on the river.
On the riverside, an old fisherman wearing a hemp fiber and a hat is fishing for his loneliness and loneliness in the rain with a constant light posture. People can't help but think of the picturesque meaning of the ancients "a leaf boat, a bamboo cloak, an old fisherman in the cold river-snow"
"Ding Ding Dong Dong" raindrops knocked on the window, kissed my face, slipped quietly, and the jumping notes spilled all over the floor!
Quiet night and beautiful scenery. A gentle feeling stirs my heart, rising with the misty rain floating in the wind. ...
The wind gently blows the lavender gauze curtain and gently blows Qin Long lying in front of the window. A wave of anxiety and palpitations swept over my heart. Suddenly, I have a desire to get close to my beloved Qin Long, who has been neglected by myself for a long time!
A melody of "Fishing boats sing late", spread your wings at your fingertips, fly in this quiet night, read your blue sleep in misty rain and distant dreams ... (South of Izu)
(Source: Yuyao Daily: Chen Zhenru)
Prose poems are sung late.
(—)
The sunset, with a red face, went down the mountain thoughtfully.
Water Mae edge, dizzy, was hit by a roundabout way. The people on board were trapped in the "green hills" on both sides of the strait by smoke, and the curtains were shyly opened.
Water town, catching the hearts of fishermen, can last for decades.
Think about it, childhood memories still have some kind of karma with ships. It's swinging there, and I'm watching it here.
(2)
The water is a pool of green, and the boat is a little dark green, like a small hairpin pinned to a woman's beautiful hair.
It, swinging from house to house, is like a running script, which I can't figure out.
Those people, adults will joke: "You brought it from a net boat." I was dumbfounded, arguing for that complicated joke for a long time, and my pouting mouth was sunburned enough.
I remember, at the mouth of Waipoqiao, I often went to fetch water with my grandmother, and the big white goose was scared away by me. When the boat passes, the waves come. There are still three or two small fish in the bowl after the waves. It's too small. It's a pity that I put it in the bottle, and it's a pity to let it go.
Once secretly wanted to go to the river port to play, grandma scolded: "You go alone, or you will be taken away by people on the net boat."
"Net boats" have been used to scare children in the Spring and Autumn Period. "People on the Internet" seems to have something to do with "bad".
"Why, they don't go home?" This matter has troubled me for half a childhood.
(3)
When I grow up, I occasionally think of boats and my hometown, the nameless village in the south of the Yangtze River.
It is full of heartache when I think about it. Such paintings continue only in those famous towns. The others fell into the trap and could never climb out.
Me, in a foreign land. The scenery is colorful. Time, half time.
Actually, it's not bad to be drunk like that. I learned to look at people more. Portraits, all kinds. They also float in another city to make money.
The ship, in the river of time, floats to the distant world. The car, so fast, so fast, "a flicker" is a city thousands of miles away. It's just that I didn't go home.
I became one of the careful knots in the word "net". Knot, the more you fight, the more you fight, the more you die
But the name of "net boat" is very simple, that is, net some fish to kill time.
The problems of childhood gradually became clear.
But "why don't I go home?" Come to the net again.
(4)
"Where is home?"
I am tired. On the edge of my dream, I rowed a boat and swam to the dense river.
Just, always lost, always forgot the direction.
Open some old books, and the "color in the painting" lingers slowly, pulling the heart away. Along the edge of the net, I didn't fall.
The setting sun dyed the sky red.
There is a small village in the distance, where the smoke is curling up. Grandma, just cook on the stove inside and wait for me.
Goose, if you forget to tidy it up, you will have the word "person" in a flurry.
On Xiao Ting's boat, that pale face was also reflected red.
The fishing boat sings late and the sound is lingering.
The net is falling into the water.