On the winding lotus pond, I look forward to the leaves of Tian Tian. The leaves are high out of the water, like an elegant dancer's skirt. Among the layers of leaves, some white flowers are scattered, some bloom gracefully, and some bloom shyly; Like a pearl, like a star in the sky. The breeze blew, sending wisps of fragrance, like a faint song on a tall building in the distance. At this time, the leaves and flowers also trembled slightly, like lightning, passing through the lotus pond in an instant. The leaves are close side by side, so there are clear wave marks. Below the leaves is the running water of the veins, which is covered and can't see some colors; Leaves are more exposed to the wind.
Moonlight, like running water, falls quietly on this leaf and flower. A thin layer of blue mist floats in the lotus pond. Leaves and flowers seem to have been washed in milk; Like a dream in a sarong. Although it is a full moon, there are faint clouds in the sky, so it can't shine; But I think this is just a benefit-deep sleep is indispensable, and nap is unique. Moonlight shines through the bushes, and the bushes at the height cast uneven and mottled shadows; The sparse shadows of curved willows seem to be painted on lotus leaves. The moonlight in the pond is uneven; But light and shadow have a harmonious melody, such as a famous song played in the Vatican.
2. Excerpt from "Yangguan Snow" by Yu.
I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the history of China.
Wasteland: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the central plains has white hair, and the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, Hunan Lake.
Cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke,
Another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that the deceased, such as husband, are facing the enemy lines in northern Shuobei; I believe they really want to.
Looking back at the last moment, give a look to the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.
Seats.
3. Autumn of Yu Dafu's Old Capital
It has been nearly ten years since autumn in the north. Every autumn in the south, I always think of the reed flowers in Taoranting, the willow shadows in Diaoyutai, the insects in Xishan, the jathyapple in Yuquan and the bells in Tanzhe Temple. Even if you don't go out in Beiping, you can rent a shabby house and live in the sea of people in the imperial city. Get up in the morning, make a bowl of strong tea and sit in the yard, you can see the high blue sky and hear the pigeons flying in the blue sky. From the bottom of Sophora japonica leaves, counting a ray of sunshine leaking to the east, or quietly facing the blue morning glory like morning glory at the broken waist, you can naturally feel the breath of autumn. Speaking of morning glory. I think blue or white is the best, followed by purple and black, and pink is the lowest. It is best to have a few sparse and slender autumn grasses as a foil at the bottom of the morning glory.
4. Yu Guangzhong's Listening to the Cold Rain
Listen, the cold rain. Look at that cold rain. Smell it, cold rain, lick it, cold rain. The rain fell on his umbrella, on the umbrellas, raincoats, houses and antennas of millions of people in this city. It's raining in Keelung Port, on the breakwater, on the boat in the channel, and it's raining this season. Rain is a woman and should be the most emotional. The rain and dew are ethereal and psychedelic, smelling carefully, refreshing, with a little mint fragrance. When it is thick, it gives off a faint earthy smell unique to grass trees after soaking their hair. Maybe it's actually the smell of earthworm and snail. After all, this is a shock. Maybe it's life on the ground and underground, maybe it's the silly crawling of China's ancient memories, maybe it's the subconscious and dreams of plants, and that smell is fishy.
5. Bi Shumin: Filial piety is priceless
"Filial piety" is a fleeting attachment, and "filial piety" is an unrepeatable happiness. Filial piety is a long-standing regret.
Things, "filial piety" is the chain that life meets life. Once it's disconnected, it can't be connected again.
Be filial to your parents. Maybe a mansion, maybe a brick. Maybe one on the other side of the ocean
A swan goose may be the information at hand. Maybe it's a pure black doctor's hat, maybe it's red in the exercise book.
Five points. Maybe it's a table of delicious food, maybe it's a wild fruit and a small flower. Maybe it's a gorgeous dress, maybe.
This is a pair of clean old shoes. Maybe tens of thousands of dollars, maybe just a coin with a body temperature ... but "filial piety"
Generally speaking, they are equivalent.
Just, children of the world, we must hurry! When your parents were still alive.
6. Bing Xin gives it to young readers
Countless farewell people, on the farthest river bank, just hold this last cut-off note and float this behemoth to the west with the heaviest sadness!
Life on the boat is so fresh and lively, except for three meals, just playing games and walking around at will. In the first three days at sea, I completely returned to the state of a child. I threw sandbags in circles, enjoyed it, and then I never played again. It's strange to think about myself later. Without him, the sea evoked memories of my childhood. In the waves, childlike innocence and playmates jumped into my mind. I hate that there are few children on board this time. Are there any good games to guess in the three days since my childlike innocence came back?
I have lived by the sea since I was a child, but I have never seen the sea as flat as a mirror. This time out of Wusongkou, the day's voyage is sparkling and endless, with a cool breeze blowing gently, and the ship is like sailing on ice. After crossing the Korean border, the sea is like a lake, blue-green, condensed into one piece, and the golden light of the sunset, like a long snake, rushes straight from the horizon to the stands of others.
From the sky to the water in front of the boat, from light red to dark green, into dozens of colors, layer by layer, piece by piece ... children, I hate that I can't draw. Words are the most useless things in the world. I can't write such an ethereal and wonderful scene!
7 \ Yu Xue
I like the flying snowflakes in Shanghai. It is "snow-white" white, as beautiful as a flower. It seems to be lighter than air, not falling from the air, but being rolled up from the ground by the air. However, it is like a living creature, like a group of gnats (ruì) at dusk in summer, like bees in the honey-picking period in spring. It is busy flying, up or down, fast or slow, or sticking to people, or squeezing into the cracks, and seems to have its own will and purpose. It is silent. But when it flies, we seem to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the rough sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes it seems to hear the whispers of children, the quiet evening prayers in the chapel, the cheerful birds singing in the garden ... It brings gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we saw a charitable mother, a lively child, smiling flowers, warm sun, silent sunset ... it didn't breathe. But when it jumped on our faces, we seemed to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, and the faint jasmine ... During the day, it made thousands of beautiful gestures; At night, it gives off silver light, shines on our pedestrians, and draws all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, oblique, straight, curved and upside down. And the river, the clouds in the sky …