Burn or bury scattered soulless chapters in those words.
I know that you will still call me, in the wind, in the rain, every waking night.
The ups and downs in the darkness are like the silent crying of cordate telosma.
Even after many years, it will still make people so addicted.
Light a cigarette, or touch, or miss, thoughts always hover and don't want to leave.
Some warm memories always wander in the memory and become more and more vivid and clear.
This season, my wandering soul can't live, and I can't write a poem that misses you.
I can't be stable in the years because I can't stop wandering.
Stories buried deep in those seasons are always in quiet time.
Ripples are as calm as water. Always sigh:
In life, there are always some encounters that come and go in a hurry.
There are always some memories in life. The more you want to forget, the more you will remember.
We lost our original innocence and the best years of our lives;
I have traveled a lot and suffered the hardships of life, leaving only the feelings after the storm.
And a numb and vicissitudes heart. Therefore, it gradually became silent.
The shadow of time, staggered and mottled, can not be retained and grasped.
I always feel this encounter in my youth, and it has become the only warmth left in my pale experience.
Stop, turn around and tell you what I didn't have time to say.
I think, even though time will get old, I won't stop staring and following my eyes.
I will always pray for you, hoping that you will be quiet and safe in the years to come.
Those memories-Essay 2 Open the computer to open the space, and I accidentally found those photos.
These photos were posted by a friend. I don't know if he is in the same situation as me now, but I have to send them! Did he forget, and I still remember? I don't deny it, I remember it! However, I don't want to find out all the sealed memories, because I will feel pain, a kind of inexplicable heartache. I have always advised my classmates to forget the pain. Even if they can't forget it, it is beautiful, because it is a symbol of life. Words are always easy and profound, but it's your turn to do nothing!
The terrible thing is that the time of the photo is so clear that I can't help looking at it. Some things can't be covered up and avoided. It takes time and needs to be digested slowly. How long have I digested it? I don't want to count, because this is also a memory process. Besides, it's all painful and not sweet at all.
Well, I'm always sad. I want to talk about it. This blog, after so long, still can't forget the meaning of the address. But one thing is better. I dare to admit it and take it out. Now that it's out, you shouldn't be ashamed. As for those that can't be said, I hope to be downgraded one day.
The soil in my heart will not be fertile because of the decay of sealed memories, and those fragments will always be as firm as fossils, so once is enough, no matter how much, it will not last, and it will not bloom any gorgeous flowers of new life!
The withered trace will not disappear, and new flowers will bloom again. At this moment, there are no buds. It's no use thinking so much. Even if you wait any longer, you will only wait until even the flowers wither …
Those Memories-Essay 3 I am a person who loves music. Although I can't read the staff and I don't know many genres of music, it doesn't affect my love for music at all. Moreover, when I recently revisited the Pearl of the Orient, which was only popular in the summer of 1997, I suddenly found that for China people, the charm and function of some classic songs are far more than an audio-visual feast. It can also be a part of national memory and a part of the main axis.
I remember that in the summer of 1997, the Pearl of the Orient, written with special feelings, was played repeatedly all over the country. At that time, I (6 years old) didn't understand the meaning and depth of this song. I just think its melody is unique and beautiful, so I listen to it again and again. Now that I think about it, it's actually a lonely word of vicissitudes for children who come home late: Ren Haifeng has been blowing for five thousand years/please don't forget me/never change/yellow-faced woman. I have heard these two lyrics countless times, and I have recited them in my mind countless times, but I really understand, really understand the sympathy from two lands (although geographically not separated) many years later.
Xiangjiang River water, with too many expectations and tears, flowed into 1997 this year. The land carrying it is still that land, but the exotic horseshoe that once hurt it has gone away, the whip stained with the blood of China people has been ruthlessly put away by the invaders, and the flag of Great Britain has been quietly lowered. When the Chinese national anthem echoed in that strange world, the waves of Xiangjiang River were also rhythmic with the melody of the national anthem. Too many red eyes staring at the fluttering blurred. The national anthem stopped and people sang in unison: please don't forget me/forever/yellow-faced woman ... long time no see, yellow-faced woman.
From this song, I think of another song that has been integrated into the national memory, that is, Song of Seven Sons, which was sung by all the people in China with tears more than two years later. Although I couldn't understand what was contained in the desolate melody at that time, I was lucky to be a participant in national memory: you know Macau/not my real name/I left you for too long/mother/but what they took away/was my body/you still kept my heart/soul. These lyrics, written in tears, sang the pain and humiliation accumulated in our hearts for 300 years, and also gave China people a humiliating baptism. Three hundred years of suffering and sorrow are all gathered in dozens of words. China people listened quietly, savoring the bitterness that had disappeared. Now, that song, that black memory, has already become distant and strange. However, when people hear this song occasionally, they will still think of two historical endpoints, 1999 and 1699, and the long way home between them.
If the theme of the above two songs is homesickness that spans time and space, and thus leads to memories of the unbearable yesterday, then the role of other songs is to freeze history. The Waves of Gulangyu is a song with the same historical significance as these two "special events". The homesickness reflected in this song is, of course, fundamentally different from the previous two songs, but this cannot hide the role of music in depicting delicate emotions. The gentle melody is full of a kind of pain that can't be separated from the strait, and the brotherhood shrouded in pain. In the 1980s, this vast continent was shrouded in a yearning contained in music. Most of the people who are shrouded don't know who the specific missing person is, don't know when this disappearance will end, and don't even know anyone on that island at all. But they still stubbornly miss each other, not because of who they call, but because they are attached to the group of people on that island.
You may have noticed that all the songs I quoted are "related to politics". It's easy to "write crooked", but for the sake of this article, I have to follow this route and lead to another song "directly related to politics" When the political climax in China ended, a legendary figure finished his interpretation and curtain call. All the people who witnessed the legend sang the song "You are such a person" in memory of Premier Zhou in a low voice: Keep all your love in your heart/tell with your smile/You are such a person. I think it is a "miracle" for modern people to miss a politician with such feelings. Those tear-jerking lyrics mark another gratifying, unforgettable and proud stroke in China's political history. A section of China's history has been filled with the life of a great man. People have engraved every lyric of that song in their hearts, savoring it with deep attachment and regret, and looking back at every detail of the legend, each one has laid a great detail. Then, with a heavy sigh, I am proud that this troubled nation has such a legend.
..... Well, that's enough about China's musical memory. To some extent, the Chinese nation is unique because it has a history of hard struggle that no other nation has ever had and a spiritual footprint that will never be forgotten. Because these footprints have long been engraved in the hearts of China people.
Those songs are the eternal memory of a person and a nation.
Those memories-Essays on Essays 4 pass through the falling rain, and my heart swims with this special day. The past is like a tide.
In the lush years, the unforgettable ignorance and unrequited love, mountains and rivers and bamboos. Engraved as an indelible memory, dancing in a corner
I still remember the severe winter and the season when plants withered. The river is shallower this season, and it flows slowly through the river bed. In winter, it is stagnant and cold. You met me in a foreign land, in my hometown. Crossing the cold river aimlessly in tandem. The cold wind blew on my face without a chill. You told me about your home and a little hedgehog you caught. Your distant hometown, through your story, gradually became clear. What a beautiful picture. In the cold moonlight, cute little hedgehog, sunny teenager. Withered grass and sparse dead branches on the roadside. Moonstone is so soft, the two young hearts are gradually approaching under the bridge in the moonlight, and the water is slowly dripping under the bridge. There are fishing lights in the water. That's my uncle. I said. "Uncle", before you know it, your honest voice with a slight northern accent has already sounded. The blush suddenly climbed up my pale and cold face. Two feet away, I can hear your fast and powerful heartbeat. Sing a song, I like to hear you sing. All right. Sing a song "bon voyage". There are songs with a strong northern accent in the night, and there are lights in the distance. Under the lights, there is a harmonious family. The lamp is warm and the heart is warm. Is it cold? You ask. Cold! You hold my hand tightly. Let's go Unconsciously, I have been in the wilderness. You collected some dead leaves and lit a bonfire. The fire ran high in the night wind. Two young and excited faces were reflected in the firelight. The small fire in my memory burns in my heart. In the two years after you left, it never went out. Hehe, love is deep and shallow. It has always been like this.
Cross the river of memory, cross the winter of memory. On this special day, those people and things, those deep and shallow. As clear as the fleeting time.
There are too few sweet memories about you. I've always been concerned about why we remember the past too little and spend too little time together. If these things are with you, if these times are with you. Whether I can be warmer now, whether I can quietly listen to your songs, your voice, and make my eyes wet with tears. That is also happy. Without your past and your memory, there is always a throbbing ecstasy.
The river of memory is intoxicated by the golden osmanthus. That tall osmanthus tree has disappeared without a trace. The dim solitary lamp is still flashing in my memory.
Stop it, stop it, stop it. Caring for you has exhausted my life's efforts. Love left my body and died with osmanthus.
It's just that this festival never belonged to me. Never belonged to you or me!
Those memories-essays may be old, and I suddenly want to write about the things in the country in my childhood memories, so let me remember them one by one and take my time. ...
My hometown is a place in Ma Pingchuan, Hebei Province, where all my childhood images are printed. What impressed me the most was rushing to the temple fair.
In the 1970s, when material life was a little difficult and traffic was inconvenient, going to the market became a day that people in the village longed for very much. People can buy what they need there, and they can also sell their materials into money. It is also a place for us to broaden our horizons and see so many people. Especially the temple fair, the project will be more abundant. So adults and children have been chanting for many days in advance, looking forward to it.
It is said by adults that this temple fair in our commune (now called Town) is the largest in the local area. I only know that Fiona Fang will go there for dozens or hundreds of miles. Why do you say that? Because in my memory, my uncle will walk 30 miles from here, and outsiders who play tricks will come here to set up tents for fun. When I was a child, I didn't know where they came from, but from their accents, I concluded that they must be from far away.
I remember that there are two temple fairs in our commune a year, one on March 26th and the other on June 26th. The temple fair in March was held when the crops were not harvested. My family wants to buy food. In June, we went to the market to buy wheat, 10, and the temple fair rushed to buy corn. During these two harvest seasons, we have to store up grain. Now that I think about it, my mother is a very good person to live. So my mother asked me to accompany her to every temple fair. I am a laborer, pulling a small flatbed car to help my mother transport food.
Our family is always short of food for a year. My father, brother and sister are all working in other places, and my grandmother is old. My mother works alone in the production team, and her work points are too small and her food is too little, which is not enough for me, my two younger brothers and my grandmother to stutter. But our family is not short of money, because my father, brother and sister are all official employees of the country, and they have to send money to their families. At that time, several people in the family ate commodity grain, which was very enviable. Every time the money order comes, the tweeter of the brigade shouts, "So-and-so, take your seal!" " The whole village knew about it, so I was very proud at that time.
But I also worry sometimes, that is, every time they write letters in turn, I have to reply one by one and read them to my mother after writing. My mother can't read a few words, so I have to shoulder this heavy responsibility at the age of ten. Now that I think about it, maybe my writing hobby was inadvertently cultivated at that time. So before every temple fair, there is always a remittance, and when it comes to buying food, it becomes the law of our family. But in fact, there is not enough food reserve every year, so I have the memory of buying food at every temple fair.
1975 10 The temple fair in October was cloudy, but for some reason my mother didn't go that time. I only remember that my mother gave me fifty cents to take my two brothers to the temple fair. I'm so happy, fifty cents. Do you know what fifty cents meant to children at that time? Five cents for a biscuit and two cents for a popsicle. How many sesame seeds and popsicles do you buy for fifty cents? In the eyes of children, what a huge number this is. Besides, this is the first time. With fifty cents in my pocket, my two younger brothers and I skipped happily and flew to the temple fair like birds. ...
As soon as you enter the temple fair, it is a crossroads. People from east, west, north and south will meet here and go where you want to go. The road in our village is the north road at the crossroads. I pulled my eldest brother with my left hand and my younger brother with my right hand, and instantly merged into the stream of people. I crossed the intersection and headed for South Road. Unexpectedly, I was not happy for a while, and I didn't have time to enjoy the surrounding scenery. A crowd washed away my hand and I couldn't see my brother in an instant. This really worries me. I pulled my eldest brother to the side of the road and shouted "Little Brother …" but there was no response.
I can't see the shadow of my little brother. I'm crazy. Yes, I flew into a rage. I can't find him when I run south, I can't find him when I run east, and I still can't find him when I turn west. It's early winter, and I'm sweating all over. I'm trying to find it all the way back and forth, and I'm still pulling my eldest brother? I don't remember my big brother's expression at that time, nor do I remember that he was tired. Anyway, I was holding him, stumbling, crying and looking for him, but I couldn't see my brother's shadow. You think I was only ten years old, my brother was seven and my brother was six. All I know is that I'm running around like a headless fly. I don't even know that I've lost a full wool scarf my sister bought me.
I don't know how many hours later, my uncle came and found us. Someone in the village saw my brother crying and told me that he was separated and took him home by the way. My mother asked my uncle to call us again. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, only to find that I didn't know when I lost my scarf. Knowing that I couldn't find it, my uncle comforted me to find it nearby. How rare it was in the countryside at that time. Where can I get it back?
I don't remember what I ate or played in this long-awaited temple fair. I just remembered looking for a scarf. Then, I rode my uncle's bike with regret. ...
This is my first experience of catching a temple fair independently. I am happy and regret it. However, the memory of brother-sister love is still grateful. I'm afraid the only child now can't understand.
Those memories-essays 6 Those years, the sadness in the memory often accompanied us to grow up slowly. In those years, because we were young and frivolous, we always dug up the sadness we didn't want to mention in the corner of memory.
In those years, I just wanted to melody the past with happy notes, and I didn't want to leave any feelings.
In those years, you always liked to lie prone on the school window, silently watching girls write and draw in class, hiding in curtains and peeking at girls' makeup.
Your outstanding style will always attract many tourists, just to witness your elegant appearance, just like your unruly personality, and how many girls are sad for you.
You will never make more souvenirs for anyone, just stay silently for the still water of that pool of lake water, and secretly express your ups and downs in that misty rain.
In those years, you used to enjoy the spring rain in the misty rain, but I poured out my heart to you in a paper sword. That carefree lightness and purity once dyed our hearts gently.
People who forget and don't want to forget the past are always lonely and affectionate. I applaud you, but you slowly burn my heart like a hedgehog.
Those years are like talking about the feeling of memory for no reason. It has been on the door and window of memory, slowly hanging on the heart wall.
I want to forget my doubts. It's like the direction you lead me forward, and let me set sail slowly in the long river of years.
Don't ask me why I am sad, and don't ask me why I stepped on my foot. That's why I won't give up your affectionate eyes and let me look up to you for a long time.
In those years, you used to be dressed in red, just for Qin Shen to gently smear your thoughts in the misty rain. I used to walk past you curiously and inadvertently, just to fold a plum blossom and hide it in my heart.
How many years of waiting for that eye, the sadness in those years' memory, just to pay homage to our lost youth.
In those years, the bits and pieces in my memory condensed like an ocean of missing, and I sang slowly and deeply in my heart.
That's how I feel influenced by you. Slowly edify, slowly find the direction of your dreams.
Those memories-Essay 7 Time flies, leaving us unchanged and changeable. When the past has quietly passed away, when the classic works of those years have become memories, look back and see if you will miss those lingering past events. If you want to define beauty, what I want to say is that beauty means cherishing the past, without regrets, without regrets. The past has become the past, so there is no turning back. What is happening now requires us to have the courage to face it and cherish it.
All kinds of classics copied over the years, whether movies, literature or music, must have added a lot of tea to everyone.
Chatting after dinner, but really accepted by the public, is rare. Because classics are not only the peak of a certain moment, but also represent the growth and youth of that generation. When we are familiar with melody, words, sounds and recitation, we feel like lovers traveling through time and space.
"The white snake abused me a thousand times, and I treated the white snake like the first love." Although Angie Chiu's youth has passed away, her favorite The Legend of the White Snake still remains in many people's minds. Hangzhou, West Lake, Leifeng Pagoda, I only wish to wait for one more time in this millennium. This song is fresh and elegant. Sammi Kao, with her sweet and magnetic voice, tells the beautiful love between "White Snake" and "Xu Xian", lamenting the infatuation of the world and praising the eternal love. Classics are classics. I believe that everyone remembers the thousand-year wait, which shocked many people.
When the peaks have no edges and corners, when the river no longer flows, when the spring, summer, autumn and winter no longer change, when all the flowers and trees wither, I still can't live without you. Your tenderness is my greatest attachment in this life. It was an era when Qiong Yao's dramas flooded, and a song & gt was sung in the whole country, Swallow Wei Zi, which was well known to the audience. This is also an era when posters, postcards and various stationery are printed with Princess Zhu Huan. This is the memory of the post-80s generation. Let us live a rainy life with the company of the world of mortals and enjoy the prosperity of the world. Maybe you are feeling Mei's true love for the little swallow, or maybe you are hating the vicious means of Rongmu and Queen. Now, the piano is playing. Do you still have the passion and passion of those years?
When the music of "Laughing in the Sea, Tide Across the Tao Tao" starts, your first feeling is that this is a generous scene of Dong Fangbubai in the legendary swordsman. Just as the theme song & gt uses the simplest lyrics, it reflects the grandeur and self-satisfaction of Jianghu children, and the carefree music itself also sets off the free and easy character. Bold Ling Huchong, proud Dong Fangbubai and gentle and generous Ren Yingying all make the young teenagers who have experienced this generation unforgettable, because classics are classics and cannot be copied. Even though time has passed for a long time, when we revisit the classics of the times, we still can't help but have a * * sound.
The theme song of the four classic novels remake by CCTV is the first classic, among which the theme song of Water Margin < < Hao Han's Song >< Since its production, this song has been deeply and sincerely sung by teacher Liu Huan because of its magnificent melody, which shows the vulgarity of Liangshan 100 heroes and their lofty aspirations to heaven. Many viewers marveled at its unique artistic charm. Timely shooting has become a popular saying, so a good horse with a good saddle and a good work with good music can show its unique charm. You may be admiring the heroic spirit of Song Wu's "three bowls fail to pass the post", or you may be praising the epic scene of "Lutai hitting Zhenguan". From time to time, you may also sigh with emotion about the prosperous times of Gao Qiu, and the triumphant scene of chickens and dogs ascending to heaven. What I want to say is that these are the roles given to people by the times. Each of us has our own role in life, bright or terrible.
Carman Lee's version of the little dragon girl seems to have become an irreplaceable film and television image in people's minds, and < < back and forth > > This paper expounds the sad love story between Yang Guo and the little dragon girl. The separation and combination in the lyrics show their love for death and their sadness and sadness of being separated by the secular. Even if there is a distance between them, 16 years later will eventually continue to lead the way at the ruthless bottom. Yang Guo and Little Dragon Girl finally became immortal couples. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn't know, Cheng Ying and Lu Wushuang have dedicated their youth to him, and Guo Xiang has missed him for a long time. Maybe he remembers, maybe he doesn't remember, once there was a girl named GongSunlue who stayed in his eyes for a moment, and all he could give was a clear flute, three gold needles or a moment's concern. At this time, this scene can not help but remind people of asking what the world is like and teaching people to feel life and death. We are all people in the world and have a secular feeling. We don't want to love only one person in this life, but we want to write and compose with only one person in this life, enjoy the beauty of the world, bear the pain of the world and taste the sweetness of achievement.
You carry the load, I'll lead the horse,
Welcome the sunrise and send away the sunset glow.
Embark on the rugged road,
Fight again, again.
Spring, summer, autumn and winter,
Ups and downs,
Dare to ask where the road is, the road is at your feet.
1986 The Journey to the West has been copied over and over again since it was broadcast, and it has almost become a mythical TV series suitable for all ages. Dare to ask where the road is, the road is at your feet, telling the story of Tang Priest's Buddhist scriptures in the West. Some people are talking about Tang Priest's indissoluble amorous feelings, some people are talking about Pig Bajie's insatiable greed, some people are talking about Friar Sand's pragmatism and sincerity, and some people are talking about the Monkey King's miraculous powers. But in any case, this is a well-known classic and can't be copied any more. No matter how far away the time is, only when the song rings will our childhood friends sing together and dare to ask where the road is, and the road is at our feet.
Classics are classics, imitated, but never surpassed, and will not be destroyed by piracy. Those masterpieces that are deeply rooted in people's hearts can always stand the test of time, be talked about by people and benefit every generation. Over time, they still have the original feeling and taste.
Maybe many years have passed, and one day when you are walking down the street, you suddenly hear the classic songs of the times coming from your mobile phone, and those familiar melodies echo in your ears. Maybe I believe that we can't help but open the old chapter and listen to the notes that moved us in those years. Even if one day we are old, years will not change the heartbeats that have made us sing countless times, and the melodies that we will never forget tonight. At this moment, what we need to do is to start the next decade and listen to the youthful memories of those years.