When it comes to poetry, you will immediately think of the beautiful autumn scene in Tianjingsha Qiu Si. "Dead vines and old trees faint crows, small bridges and flowing water, old roads and thin horses, sunset, heartbroken people in the end of the world."
ancient road
an ancient road, extending to the depths of history, reminds me of the vicissitudes of life in which thorns are covered with snow. Reading the ancient road is equivalent to reading a thick history. It is a long imprint left by years. The galloping horse raises the language of poetry. The concave and convex road and the flat and gentle wind sang poetry. The ancient road not only leads to the distant history, but also goes deep into the heart of a thin horse and explores the ancient homesickness. The ancient road is a long ribbon left among lovers, full of emotional language, talking in the sound of wheels.
The ancient road is a river, reflecting the sun and Yun Ni, the joys and sorrows of love, and the vicissitudes of the world. It is a sigh left by the poet, a long and helpless sigh, a graceful note that warns people to cherish the present and touches the heartstrings.
westerly wind
A wild goose chirp accompanied by a cold westerly wind blew the dead branches of autumn geese. The west wind roars outdoors alone, and its all-pervasive skills are defeated in front of the mud wall of the farmhouse. The days are getting deeper and deeper, and the west wind is getting worse. He opened the gathering dusk with one hand, wrapped his thin clothes with the other, and stared at the distance with deep eyes. In the arrogant west wind, there is a faint horn of spring ringing. He is full of energy, riding and running, and his bright eyes emit two fiery lights.
thin horse
It came "da da" in Ma Zhiyuan's poem, and it surprised me to fly a comfortable dream. How far the wild grass has spread, let me meet the thin horse unexpectedly today. Chasing what? A posture that refuses to give up and limps without stopping. What about the heart, has it been soaked by wind and rain? The road has become boundless, and the future is long. Which station do you leave from? The only direction has become an irreparable dislocation. From then on, that blunt official document, or a warm letter from home, has become a suspense that never follows. Which god of war are you? A sniper's shot makes you lose your heroic temperament, and the rout of life makes you unable to return to the true nature of life. Are you a loser left behind by history, or an impassioned warrior running at the forefront of time? Thin horse said nothing, as always, walking his own loneliness. Its memory contains the beauty of spring and the beauty of peach blossoms. In front of it, there is a call, which is the rich expectation of its life. The thin horse walks in a melancholy picture of the autumn wind blowing down the sunset. The same thin traveler can't help screaming. The ancient road is empty and silent.
how magnificent the road, the wind and the horse are. They are always telling the poet's anguish and helplessness, and his yearning for his hometown.
Therefore, this poem struck a chord with me.