Xu Xiake measured every inch of mountains and rivers with his feet. He has set foot on the distant place of the past countless times, but without exception, he found that the distant place is the distant place, and there are mountains and rivers everywhere. Has he reached the distance? In the eyes of the world, he has already arrived in the distance, and he is still wandering in the same place. So after going to Wan Li Road and reading thousands of books, we will keep the distance within sight, and at the same time we will inevitably shape it in another inaccessible place. Wheat fields are connected one by one, so let it go to Qiu Lai in spring; The sunset takes over from one night to another and moves with it; A distant one borders this one, and it chooses to choose.
I must be a kapok beside you, standing with you in the image of a tree, with my roots firmly rooted in the ground and my leaves touching in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind blows, we greet each other, but no one understands us. Shuting is far away, within reach, but unable to depend on each other. I just look at you, see your leaves fall, see your germination, see your flowers bloom and fall, see you wither and wither. I don't want to destroy the integrity of the process of life, but I am willing to be with you, stare at you and yearn for you, because you are my distance. Therefore, I throw myself at you with love that I can't reach but is full of expectation. Love-not only your stalwart body, but also your persistent position and the land under your feet.
Perhaps, distance is just a holy love, a fascination with distance. Because of the emotional fate, I have to love you, but I am glad that I love you. I put you in the distance that I will always describe with poetic words, and you are integrated with it. I don't know who made who. Maybe, because of you, I have distance and poetry.
How many people love you when you are young and happy? Only one person loves your pilgrim's soul and the painful wrinkles on your aging face. He hung his head and whispered sadly about the disappearance of love by the red fire. On the mountain overhead, he walked slowly, hiding his face among a group of stars. As time goes on, the distance between Ye Zhi is getting bigger and bigger. How many journeys can we compare the expectations between old age and young age? The distance may be ancient and long, but it is worth looking forward to and enjoying quietly. In the distance, it may be immature and lively, but it is desirable and joyful. When I really have a heart that can put myself in your shoes and love your old face or youthful blood, I am separated from you by the existence of life itself. It turns out that the distance is not just mountains and rivers, not just lovers, but also yourself. The distance that belongs to you at this moment is your past or future self that you can never touch.
"I take it off bit by bit, and everything that binds my life is redundant. At that time, I could go to the ends of the earth if I wanted to, and my freedom finally came at this time. How far is it? Please tell me. Is it far to the end of the world and the cape? " This is the distance of three hairs. She is an extremely free and easy woman. Is the desert far away from her? Not exactly; Is that Jose? Not exactly. Her distance is probably the process of finding the distance forever. I have been running all my life, and I have been pursuing it all my life. Some people go to the distance in their hearts, and she runs to the distance with her footsteps. As a result, it is conceivable that her distance is farther than others! How fascinating it is to travel far away.
Distance and poetry are always placed at the same height before being recognized by people, and they complement each other. Poetry will enrich distance, and distance will make poetry full of passion. This seems to provide two alternative roads for the long journey, reading thousands of books and taking Wan Li Road. But is this really the case? Actually, it is not. They may not really lead to the distance, because the distance is always within reach, but it is close at hand.
Opening the page, it seems that the drizzle in the rain lane has already sprinkled on me, and I can really feel it in the distance in the poem at this moment. However, in the distance of Dai Wangshu's heart, the girl with an oil-paper umbrella and a lilac knot can only wander in the rain lane forever, casting a sigh-like look and a lilac-like melancholy. ...