"The sound of the sheng stirs up the autumn wind, and the wine flies to the winter snow." Winter snow is the tears dripping from the sky. Under the blowing of the new wind, it condenses into crystal flowers, flying one after another and floating freely. Qing Yang's posture is so free and easy, so ethereal. She meanders here and there one after another, either in the low dusk or in the silent cold night. Falling on the ground, it looks like a virgin's skin, white and transparent.
When I was a child, I lived in poverty and felt that winter was very cold. However, whenever it snows, I can always excitedly chase those fairy-like snowflakes wearing old shoes with leaky toes and thin clothes. Even though the wind is biting and the snowflakes are freezing, they don’t care at all. Laughing and chasing...his little hands, which were red and stiff from the cold, could never catch a single snowflake. Because it has not yet been touched, it can be broken by blowing between the fingers. At this moment, he returned in despair, looking like a poor scholar.
My father is a private teacher in the village. Every winter, after students get out of school, the principal requires teachers to work for about two hours. One winter, it was snowing heavily, and my grandma asked me to give a raincoat to my father who was working at school. So, I put on a piece of plastic cloth and walked to the school in the village. Under the eaves of the dilapidated temple, I huddled in the corner, and by the dim kerosene lamp, the principal was holding a meeting with the teachers. The sound of coughing and the smell of dry smoke kept coming out of the crack in the door. I was so cold that I stamped my feet outside the door. After a long time, the door creaked open, and a dozen teachers filed out. When my father found me, he was shocked at first, and then picked me up hard. That night, I felt my father's embrace was so broad and warm...
More than ten years ago, my father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. My brother and I seemed to have lost our souls. The city hired the best physicians. However, all the efforts were in vain, and my father's illness became more serious day by day. One snowy day, I walked out of the school gate in depression, stepping on the thick snow, letting the ice and snow wet my hair and blurred my eyelashes. While trembling, I suddenly looked back and saw two lines of deep footprints behind me. The heartbreaking pain still lingers to this day.
"Green ants make fresh fermented wine, and a small red clay stove. It is snowing in the evening, can you drink a glass of water?" When I first narrated this poem, it was winter. Due to the poor facilities in the countryside, the weather was cold. During the winter season, there is no heating equipment. On the podium, I explained with great eloquence, and the students in the audience listened attentively, and received endless applause from time to time for the wonderful points. There was joy and excitement, and the chill was gone. Even recalling that passionate scene still makes me excited. New wine, red stove, jade flowers, and drinking together, how pleasant is the artistic conception shown in the poem? How fascinating? I can't help but admire how elegant and sentimental the ancients were.
There is a village in the northern mountainous area called Xieyu. The village is not big, with dozens of households. Every spring, pear blossoms are in full bloom, white. Butterflies are flying and phoenixes are dancing, and the fragrance is overflowing. Tourists, old and young, arrived one after another, and the plain mountain village immediately became lively. "A pear blossom brings rain in spring." Wandering around, I couldn't help but think of Bai Juyi's "Song of Everlasting Sorrow". Concubine Yang's skin is as white as a pear blossom. When she cries, it falls from her cheeks like pear blossoms in rain. Lotte's writing power is extraordinary, and this kind of skill will be difficult for future generations to match.
"Suddenly, like a spring breeze coming overnight, thousands of pear blossoms bloomed on thousands of trees." Among the poems describing winter snow, this one by Cen Shen is my favorite. Not only are they similar in appearance, but also similar in spirit. When I was sending my graduating class that year and reviewing this knowledge point, it happened to be snowing heavily outside the window. The classroom started to become agitated. I stopped teaching and took advantage of the situation and said to the students: Do you want to see the snow outside the classroom? As soon as this statement came out, there was no restlessness and the crowd was excited. I said: Now you can go outside the classroom to watch the snow fall! The students dispersed in excitement, running and disappearing into the snow.
After a long time, the students gradually returned to the classroom. I asked the students to connect the observed scenery with the teaching materials, and then answer the questions. The students were gearing up and eager to give it a try. Some say that the heavy snow on the branches is similar to the scene of pear blossoms in bloom, others say that Cen Shen describes and observes meticulously... and so on.
Many years later, teachers and students gathered together again. Looking back on the past, several classmates said in unison that the review class of "Bai Xuege Sends Judge Wu Back to Beijing" was the most unforgettable, but I had already forgotten the events of that year. .