The first article: snow prose
Snow in winter is a kind of beauty. The falling snowflakes danced with the wind, and the cold branches smelled of plum blossoms. The sky is white and pedestrians are in a hurry. The eaves of the air door are dreaming, and the snow falls on the windowsill.
The snow dance, especially the scattered flowers of the goddess, is messy and somewhat chilly. The snow all over the sky makes the world chaotic and romantic. Snowy days are lonely. There are bamboo phoenix tails in the wind, and the snow is close to holly, shining with white light. Looking up, the snow is full of eyebrows, and looking down, the flying catkins are full of white. What a heavy snow, big flowers and small flowers, flowers blooming, snow pressing cold branches low, wind blowing trees whistling. The wind urged the snow to dance away from the cold river, and Wu Peng's boat floated in the snow. The cold river is too cold to enter, and the silence only smells of snow. So Liu Zongyuan wrote the snowy day like this: "There are no birds in the mountains, and all the people are wiped out. Lonely boat coir Weng, the old man fishing cold river-snow. "
This kind of snow is sparse in winter morning and dense at dusk. From sparse to dense, until it becomes bigger and bigger and denser. After a while, the sky was white and everything was covered with white, even the thin branches and narrow bamboo leaves were covered with snow. It will be late when it snows, and there is no business in the market. People were swept into the house by the wind and snow, leaving only tireless wind and snow outside. With the night wind entering people's homes, Western jackdaw in the west has returned to its own home, and even the usual unbridled barking of dogs has become silent. On a white snowy night, only the wind is breathing there. The wilderness is barren, and the snow falls silently at night. It doesn't sound real to hear a dog barking in your ear. Western Western jackdaw, looking for late food, flying over Chai Men, not afraid of people. Chai Men is driving in the wind and coming home on a snowy night.
On a snowy night, leaning against the door to listen to the snow is the leisure of falling snow. Hold your breath and listen. Listen to the singing of flying snow, and listen to the sound of winter seeds breathing in the soil. Xue Rui is a good omen for the year. After waiting all winter, life rose in the snow. The heart is like a seed, waiting in the wind and snow, waiting for spring to sprout.
"There is a ray of green in the old bottle and a trace of red in the quiet stove. It feels like snow outside at dusk. How about a glass of wine inside? " ? Making tea around the stove on a snowy night, waiting for the arrival of friends. It's hard to say who is a hero when the snow is gone and the wine is cooked. Snuggle against the fire and listen to the sound of falling snow, holding a bottle around the stove and whispering in the rivers and lakes. Half a cup of warm wine makes people not drunk, and the ear warm wine is full of spring breeze. On such a snowy night, I don't talk about classics, regardless of the road. Elegant and leisurely, playing the Zheng deeply. Rereading poetry books with hakodate, indifferent to normal heart. "The spring breeze suddenly passes through the east, and the golden urn and wine form a microwave." Snow-white snow, heavy night, a group of laity, grinding thick ink, attached to the elegant painting. Comb your hair like ink, flowing. The old man will laugh when he is around, and his feet are like a crow's play. Take it to the strip to buy copper coins. It is estimated that two or two meters can't be wiped off. How cold it has been since ancient times, Chai Men has no frequent visitors. Father plays winter rhyme in the middle of the night, and red plum dreams of spring on a snowy night.
In recent years, where there is no snow in winter, I will wander in the snow in my dream. Winter without snow is like something missing. I remember that winter was snowy, and I wandered in a mountain called Niuche River in western Hunan. The ravine was flattened by snow, and I couldn't tell where the ridge was and where the valley was. When the weather is clear, the world is white, and only the smoke from people's roofs can understand that there is life there. The snow was frozen by low temperature, and it was desolate everywhere, as if it had come to the polar region. Someone set up a bird net in the snow, and a group of people lay in the snow waiting for the birds to bite. Looking at the young life, trapped in it for a few grains of wheat, wondering if you came there for a few grains of wheat? The sun was a little harsh when it came out, but the air was still so clear. It has been many days since the snow and ice melted out of the mountain. When we arrive, we often see that people are already preparing for the New Year, and unconsciously feel like a lifetime ago. I wonder if I have been to any fairyland in the mountains these days. I was born in the mountains for thousands of years. Since then, cooking wine around the stove on a snowy night in winter has become a memory in my heart, and I will turn it out and taste it from time to time. When it snows, close the door at night, shut the snow out and listen to the sound of snow. If it snows all night, get up in the morning and open the door. The cold and fresh air will make you shiver. There is only silvery white snow in the silvery white world, and there is also a snow-white feeling in people's hearts. All unhappiness and flaws are covered with snow, as if the world is so pure and white. The snow outside the window is a masterpiece of nature, followed by the wind.
Mountain snow is random, and it is cold that the crown is covered with ice crystals. Silver seal Wan Ren late crow, Jiangzhou lonely no one.
In the dead of winter, the wind is always tightly wrapped around the runners, leaving you nowhere to hide. When the wind blows for several days, the old people will say that it is snowing again. Sure enough, in that case, when I get up in the morning, the door is blocked by snow and the window can't shine. It is sunny on snowy days. On a snowy morning, the sun came out. The earth is covered with silver, and the icicles hanging on the eaves are ticking with melting snow. Old people and children are sitting in the sun enjoying the warmth of this winter and enjoying the snow-white in the sun. The snow is endless, and a group of western Western jackdaw foraging in the snow is like several moving black spots. The sunny day after snow is beautiful.
Snow is a gift from nature. Snowflakes flying, cold branches Qing Xiang. Walking through the snow, the cold plum blossoms in Xun Mei are gorgeous, as if smelling the breath of spring.
When it snows, the earth can already see the figure of spring.
Chapter Two: Snow Prose
Standing in the winter wind, I feel the solemnity of winter. Looking around, the branches and leaves are sparse and scattered, and birds stand quietly on the branches, counting the fleeting years in the winter scenery. Only a few small pieces of sunshine scattered around, as if a lonely heart with a little gorgeous color, leaving my thoughts far away.
Flowers bloom and fall, and there are several winters. Looking forward to the endless snow dance season, I really want to cook with you on a snowy night, giving a snow rhyme lurking in the depths of my memory and listening to the rhythmic shallow songs of crystal snowflakes. .....
Open the skylight of the dream, listen to the snow, listen to the snow-white heart falling in front of the window, listen to the sigh of the snow, listen to the warm sound of the snow falling on the ground, just like listening to the sound of flowers, snowflakes dancing lightly, dancing with a faint smile and fragrance.
Snow-white flying feathers put a snow-white robe on the winter world. Looking around, a snowflake, through the traces of winter, sings and dances lightly and burns heartily, with 10,000 kinds of tenderness in the crystal heart and all kinds of thoughts, Ying Ying blooms in the heart like snow.
The world of mortals is snowing, and the snow reflects the cold winter. I wonder whose forehead this flying elf is hanging on. Whose idea was it?
The snow is still floating, and the drunken night conveys my overflowing thoughts and walks in a poetic dream.
Chapter Three: Snow Prose
The evening breeze is a little tired and warm. The yellow light of the setting sun caged the blooming trees next to the house. Snow-white petals scattered all over the floor, one by one, how lonely.
It seems that I have been waiting for a long time in this land. I sit on the diagonal branch of a tree every day, singing that lonely song, and the sad notes spread like ripples in the sea. No trace. Prose bar original
I began to remember how beautiful the dream of petal weaving is. White and noble, like a princess's castle in a fairy tale, and like the brightest star in a starry night, flashing and singing cheerful songs. Wandering and playing every day. Who will swing me under the tree, one high and one low, like grandpa's rocking chair? The warm sunshine sprinkled on the leaves, soft music played under the trees, and the long flute began to settle and dissipate. ...
The branches suddenly trembled and woke me up from my dream. The tide has faded, the tired sunset on the horizon has gone away, and the yellow moon has gradually risen. The faint yellow light caged the locust tree beside the house, and the jagged leaves were mottled and swaying. Pieces of snow-white petals fell on my lonely back and floated into the sea.
My sadness, like these snow-white petals, floated into the lonely and cold night. ...
Chapter Four: Snow Prose
Repeated life is boredom or habit, just like snowflakes flying in the air, which looks beautiful, but their sadness and God's cold pain!
Tears of disappointment flowed down, and memories, like falling snowflakes, gradually melted the vague past. Inadvertently recalling the dribs and drabs of the past, I have an unspeakable feeling in my heart. I lay by the bed and stared out of the window. In the evening, I think of my previous pain, look for traces of it, and enjoy intermittent fragments. It turns out that there are so few happy and sweet days that I can't even find traces in my memory! Prose bar original
Close your eyes, be as quiet as death, sink deeper and deeper in the swamp of pain, but don't want to climb out. Maybe you have no potential!
I don't want to think about it anymore. The feeling of pain makes me decadent. No matter what kind of words, I can't describe them. {Pain} I'm really scared. I don't want to get hurt. {Injury} surrounds me everywhere, and I can't relax myself. It will penetrate my fragile heart at any time. When will it land? Maybe it has landed, but I accidentally abandoned it!
Maybe I am a person who likes the night. Even if I am afraid of the loneliness at night, my heart will not melt in the dark without fingers like snowflakes! cold ...
Chapter Five: Snow Prose
The first snow in 20XX came later than usual. Snow came quietly, and the earth was vast and white, which was so beautiful.
The falling snow is light, gentle and romantic. Because of the arrival of snowflakes, the earth has become white and solemn. Perhaps the wind couldn't bear to disturb the tranquility of the snowflake, so it retired.
I walked out of the house on my back and welcomed the beautiful snowflake with open arms. I really wanted to kiss her, but she was too shy to speak, but she melted. I want to hold her in my hand so that she won't be hurt again, but she left silently after a short stay, leaving you with very gentle tears.
God gave the earth a white gift. The white earth is like a blank sheet of paper. You can write the most beautiful words and draw the most beautiful watercolors. Snowflakes all over the sky have swept away all the troubles and sorrows in the world and washed away all your annoyances and regrets. This kind of artistic conception makes you have to rearrange your thoughts and re-examine the whole world.
It is said that plum blossoms are also proud of snow. Looking at the bright color under the snow is the challenge of life to the severe winter. Without the foil of snowflakes, how can plum blossoms be fragrant?
I love snowflakes because of their tenderness and beauty. ...
Chapter Six: Snow Prose
In the silent winter, the snow people are waiting for has fallen on the boundless Yuan Ye. It is the first drop of water that gives the sanctity of winter and the expectation of a heart as white as snow. Winter without snow cannot be called winter.
Snow is a symbol of winter. Snow is a unique landscape in this season. Snow is the purest language on this planet. Snow is the soul of winter.
Snow is like a butterfly looking for a dream, flying all over the sky. Snow wraps the bare earth with a broad mind.
The snowfield is as quiet as a virgin. Behind the snowfield is a holy snow peak, clinging to that precious chastity, standing on the horizon and examining the city where I live.
There are countless pairs of eyes in the distance, clear as water, reading the loneliness of the snowfield. There are not a pair of footprints on the road to the snowfield at the moment. Only those red plums are in full bloom on the snowfield. The smell of plums drifted with the wind, which was the smell of snow. Plum blossoms lit vilen on the fire. White flames rose from the snowfield.
"The window contains a thousand miles of autumn snow in Xiling" snowflakes fall on the village, which seems to inject fresh salt into the indifferent rural life. What a magnificent artistic conception. Warm colors are like smiling cotton.
The country longs for such snowy days. Farmers look forward to the joy of the coming year in the snowy days, and then sit around the fire pit, enjoying the dripping eaves water, warming a pot of spirits and talking with the snow.
The thawed cowbell rang with country songs. On the snow-covered field, wheat seedlings and snow whispered affectionately. Farm tools are awake in snowy days, and following the footprints behind them is the road to harvest.
Snow falls in the city and becomes a landscape. Those people are as happy as Yan Zhen. How to understand the vastness and simplicity of snow, how to understand the pure language of snow, how to praise the selfless character of snow with those decorative eyes and impetuous city sounds, and those beautiful images painted with red lips and makeup?
Noble urbanites who can read snow all use snow as a foil to integrate themselves with snow and enlarge them into eternal memories. They expect life to be as white as snow and their hearts to be as pure as snow.
Snow falls in the depths of memory, in the age of innocence. Only a holy childlike innocence is worthy of playing in the snow.
We all want to be like houses, villages and cities, with pure smiles and joy, and pure snow sculpture.
We fantasize about leaving the real snow behind, and the sunshine makes the snow melt into our memory and perfect our life.
Snow falls on the quiet night and our spiritual home. The deepest and coldest thing is not night, but loneliness.
On a snowy night, how many lighted candles are listening to the words floating in the sky; How many poets are rising with the flame of inspiration, surging with artistic passion and singing the magnificence of "blowing open the petals of ten thousand pear trees"; How many eager painters can't draw the spirit of Snow White; How many surging piano sounds depict the coming of spring with notes, and how can dexterous fingers pop up the wonderful rhyme of falling snow? How many vines are in bud in the dream, and every bud in bud is brewing the experience of spring; How many people love snow, imagine the scene of falling snow, joy is like rain, and wet hearts grow new green leaves; How many lovers should fly with every snowflake and blessings for feelings and life.
Vicissitudes, always old. Snow appears unparalleled sublimity. The sublime is the cleanliness of snow life, and the sublime is the snow-white spirit.
Chapter 7: Snow Prose
In winter, the sun is shining in the east, shining all over the earth, and the cold wave is foggy. In the cold winter, the snow is flawless and the world is lonely. Severe frost, walking alone in the snowy morning, snowflakes spread thousands of miles, and the world is pure white. Looking at enterprises, fields and criss-crossing buildings, everything is beautiful and flawless under the white package.
Those fallen leaves trembled slightly in the cold wind; Those lost years become bleak in the cold winter. Screw up a section of running water, wait for the beautiful years, leave a mark on the snow, and those romantic nights that are easy to get old are the guests waiting for the Millennium. Prose bar original
The dusty memories remind us of the years, but they are still clear and ignorant. There was a lot of snow when I was a child, and the smile that I couldn't cover was love flying all over the sky. Childhood friends, two small partners, what a perfect youth, accompanied by a sentence that you are not my lover after all, suddenly, my heart broke into zero like a fallen flower, and I can't do it again.
Thousands of snowflakes are falling, and the cold permeates the sky. People stand in the wind and their hearts can bear it. Fingertips are fleeting, running water is flowing, and silk and bamboo ears are around the heart. Through the dust of the Millennium, Sandy's tearful hands smiled in the cold compress. Suppose the end of the world, the fragrance is full of sleeves and shallow, and the world of mortals returns to the desert.
Winter is coming, and the pace of spring is not far away. Wash away the lead, listen attentively, and the winter scenery is also a beautiful picture, with a different kind of beauty.
My heart is looking forward to the future, the spring breeze is warm, the sun shines high in the sky, and the branches of the courtyard are green. How fuzzy the color of snow is, but it can't hide the arrival of spring. The new year is a new atmosphere and a good style.
Spring is majestic, winter is drifting away, and the loneliness of a season is filled with too much dust. Flowers bloom and fall, the years are quiet, the years fall, the rain falls on the white stone, and the moss is exposed. Birds are singing in Haruka, plum blossoms are stained with red dust and snow, Qiao Hong is surrounded by white, stamens are fragrant, and eyebrows are smiling. The snow melted, the branches were covered with water drops, and the sunlight penetrated, shining like stars in the blue sky.
The desolation of time is a lonely destination, and some people turn around for ten years.
Ten years later, we met in that colorful place. We can only say that you are not the same as before, and I am not the same as before. Meeting and strewn at random only take a moment, but it takes a lifetime, just like this winter has gone and spring has come, which makes people deeply moved.
Snow is freezing, winter has passed, spring has come, pain has passed, and happiness is coming soon. Looking forward to, watching, everything is perfect, everything is growing, sunshine and dew are happy movements.
Chapter 8: Snow Prose
There is a kind of meeting just to say goodbye at last, and there is a kind of saying goodbye and never seeing it again. If memory is the connection between the past and the present, then our past is the most splendid fireworks in the fleeting time, which will inevitably fragrance the youth of that season. If the past is a shining lamp, then our old feelings will be the most touching story, destined to warm the time of that year. After a fleeting time, I loved the lingering years, and I always understood the true meaning of feelings in a casual moment. In the past, it suddenly occurred to me that the years had already arranged our fate. Fate has arrived, what should be met will be met, and what should be left will eventually go. Therefore, people you meet should cherish, and those who leave should smile and say goodbye.
The past days can only stay in old stories, but now the people in the stories are doomed not to cross the memory gap, flash the light about love, and then bury it in their hearts forever. I still remember your tenderness and your sadness; Your smile, your face, will always be fixed in the depths of memory.
Zhang Ailing said that some people have never had a chance to meet. When they have a chance to meet, they will hesitate. It's best not to meet. Some things have never had a chance to do, and I don't want to do it again when I have a chance. Some words have been buried in my heart for a long time and I have no chance to say them. When I had a chance to say it, I couldn't say it. Some loves have never had a chance to love, and they stopped loving when they had a chance. Feelings, the most perfect memory is when we first met, and the most unbearable moment is the moment when we never leave each other. Meeting was a perfect beginning for us at first, but we broke up in a hurry, and our ending was not what we had imagined. It's just that when our feelings are broken and sad, everything in the past has drifted away with the wind. No matter how many prosperous years we talked about, no matter how many vows we made, no matter how many affairs we talked about, you can't actually keep this moment away from me.
That year, silence was a farewell party. Maybe our fate is doomed to end here. As we said before, we will accompany each other in the years to come. And feelings, feelings maintained by feelings, are just too illusory, as if people always can't find the direction and see the future. Therefore, separation is the most helpless ending and the saddest farewell. From then on, a person's sleepless night, a person's grief, simply can not hear any outside voice, simply can not hear all the comfort from around. What rings in my ear is the song I listened to with you, and what echoes in my mind is the promise I made with you. What I can't understand now is that you left quietly, and you didn't look back, leaving me alone.