Autumn is endowed with charming colors and mysterious breath by some ancient poems, just like a beautiful fairy tale, telling the purest part of the world. Following those verses, I seem to have returned to the autumn of that year. I touch the past that has disappeared with my thin thoughts, maintaining the beauty floating in the wind. Deep in my long-lost heart, it will turn into the warmth of Christmas fireworks in the brightly lit night, and I can't help but pour out of my chest and turn into a melodious and fresh song.
Once, on a melancholy evening, I was walking alone in the garden, and the intermittent Mao Mao rain fell silently on my face. On the hill in the west, there is only a crimson sunset, trying to pour out a faint afterglow for the dead sunset. The roof in the distance is still spreading the gentle luster of the sun, adding more vivid colors to the poetic dusk.
I stopped under a wall covered with rattan leaves. Suddenly, a striking line of chalk came into view: "close the window, I can refuse the wind." It seems that there is really a gentle breeze stirring my sensitive heartstrings, and I have been paying attention to it for a long time. What kind of scene and artistic conception should this poem be born in? I picked up half the chalk on the ground and wrote at the bottom of the poem: "Hold an umbrella, I can refuse the rain." At that time, I wrote this poem in search of inspiration, and the heat still surged in my heart.
The next day, on a wet and watery morning, the flowers were still dreaming. I separated the leaves from the seemingly spotless air. The same wall is still covered with ivy. Under my poem, it simply says, "But how can I refuse depression?" My heart trembled. Although I was looking forward to it, I didn't expect that there would really be another sensitive soul to write my feelings.
Are you happy in life? Have you lost your life? We can easily refuse the wind and rain, but it is always difficult to resist the intrusion of melancholy, which is invisible and pervasive. Melancholy is often accompanied by loss and depression. In a quiet and peaceful life, we still have to love every ordinary day that passes by, and all kinds of bumps are inevitable. Therefore, we can only learn to find ways to break through depression and expel the haze above our hearts, just as we must strive to face and tolerate the storms in life.
I bent down and picked up some white stones. Look carefully, these stones have no dirt or spots. I hold them tightly, as if grasping the pure white and persistence of life. So, I added a sentence on the wall: "Melancholy is accompanied by growth, and there is no need to refuse."
Now is the spring when everything is revived. I am grateful to those souls who sing with me. Although I have never met before, I was once excited by the same emotion and echoed from afar, in that poetic fairy tale autumn.
2. Breeze, please don't blow the fence of memory.
The crystal moonlight here, cold and fluttering, still can't take away my residual thoughts. Dissolve into eternal sadness, become an immovable image, stare at thousands of miles of silver light, and still can't find your starry sky. The wind is blowing from a distance, cooling my hair and dispelling my knotted thoughts.
The night is dim, the stars are whispering, the ground is full of acacia, and the broken heart is no longer gentle. I froze all my rose dreams, turned them into white pieces of paper and threw them into the wind. I put away all the nets that miss you, and even if the bank of thoughts collapses, I still let it expand in my heart. Just wait hard, waiting for the beginning or end of another gray story.
My tenderness and purity can't change your loneliness after all. My little hand can't brush away the wrinkles in Cang Sang after all, and the orange light in my heart can't illuminate your way back after all. In the era of dim lights, hierarchical love can never dissolve into each other's hearts. I am like a strange weed, the wind and rain are coming, waiting for you quietly. You drift from place to place and become a beautiful butterfly. When you fly away, you gather fragrant flowers. Countless nights, I accompanied helpless tears. If you ever felt my trembling heart, how could you not call back your heartache and come back? You gave yourself a lot of reasons, just because of your momentary heart, because your kind and affectionate sword stabbed my heart. My melancholy eyes, beautiful sadness, tonight, I cry for you into an immortal ice sculpture.
Breeze, please don't blow open the fence of memory. Let colorful flowers wither on the city walls, let wistful vines wither in first frost, and let crimson maple leaves fall in the forest. I would like to let the twilight sunset sprinkle the last touch of gold all over the earth, I would like to let the cold moonlight shine into my heart every night, I would like to let the rain of the four seasons drift into my dry heart river, and I would like the wind of those years to blow away all my joys and sorrows.
3. Autumn colors in the town
Autumn in a small town is destined to make people put the key to open the door of memory in the yellow leaves of poplar branches. After being full of rain and dew, they will witness the ups and downs, and eventually they will fall with the wind, without direction or even help themselves.
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Leaving the city where I live all the year round and coming to this remote and even a little closed town, my life is a little less noisy and a little more simple and quiet, just like a gorgeous dance music, which inadvertently enters a lyrical chapter and relaxes my mind.
The wind blowing from the Snow Chicken Mountain easily swept off the yellow leaves on the branches, floated down and landed on the narrow streets of the town. The houses nearby, the mountains in the distance, and the prayer wheel in the old lady's hand are also yellow, which is a bit like "the city is full of golden flowers". Here, I can also luxuriously enjoy a lot of sunshine every day. The sunshine here is really good, like a passionate gypsy woman, who passionately confessed to me and smoothed and ironed every wrinkle in my heart. In the narrow valley, a small river is singing happily on the edge of the city and flowing eastward, as if telling a distant friend about this small town. Tibetans, businessmen, travelers and monks and nuns shuttle through the narrow streets of the town, unfamiliar and cordial. In such an environment, I am lonely, comfortable and comfortable. I take off my heavy mask and walk on the streets in autumn, breathing the air mixed with earthy breath, as quiet as a fairy tale.
The small town has no imprint on me, so I don't have to remember anyone or anything in the autumn memory of the small town. Autumn in a small town is destined to make people put the key to open the door of memory in the yellow leaves of poplar branches. After being full of rain and dew, they will witness the ups and downs, and eventually they will fall with the wind, without direction or even help themselves.
The memory of a small town in autumn is a return to nature after prosperity, a transcendence that has been experienced, gained, lost or even heartbroken, and a calm maturity and return.
Migratory birds migrate because of seasons, and seasonal migration is because of nature. Why do people migrate? The riverbank near the city is covered with seabuckthorn and poplar, and the golden autumn leaves quietly cover the old yellow mud roof of the riverbank, like the exquisite headdress of Tibetan girls, adding to the charming autumn colors of the town. In a restaurant filled with the smell of highland barley wine, I was very happy and drunk drinking raisin red as strong as autumn. A woman in red who was drinking with us was in tears. After listening to a friend's account, I realized that she was a teacher who just came here after graduating from college. Because of emotional twists and turns, she chose to move to this closed town and slowly heal. But she didn't know that the failed feelings, like a long river bank, would always make sad memories burst its banks in late autumn, and the past in her heart would pour like a flood. There would be sweetness and heartbreaking bitterness behind the weeping like a pear flower with rain. Before, I was still lamenting the smallness and monotony of the town, but at this moment, I realized that it was this exquisite and monotonous beauty and primitive purity that made people feel pity, but suddenly sighed, just like something carefully collected by a woman in red. It seems that no matter how hard she tries to forget and how to escape, she will eventually meet the sweetness of the past in a small town in late autumn with the help of alcohol, a matchmaker. Once she wakes up, things will change, but after all, there is no escape. This small town is too suitable for missing, too suitable for sadness and too suitable for the migration of love.
There is no busy sight of tourists and traffic in the town. Walking in the lazy autumn sunshine, the autumn wind rolls up the fallen leaves, like a naughty child, but you will still enjoy the peace. From time to time, you will find three or five groups of red-robed monks, tall and powerful Khampa people, dogs lazily basking in the sun in the street, and bright flowers on the balcony. I believe that the Buddha enshrined in the homes of ordinary people is also smiling slightly at the moment. Walking on the streets of the town, I can enjoy her comfort and idleness comfortably, but I always feel that something is missing, and my heart is empty and there is nowhere to store it. I give myself a good reason to tell myself that I just live in a small town, and I don't have to lose myself in a small town in late autumn. In fact, the tranquility of autumn is the settlement after prosperity, and it is also the brewing that is ready to go; Everyone's life seems to have the same starting point and ending point, but they can walk with the seasons in an endless heart.
Autumn colors in the town are very romantic. Frost leaves are red in February. The narrow river bank of the town has been covered with red leaves. The wind blowing from the snowy Lashan Mountain dyed the green leaves into romance, and countless romances recorded countless happy smiles. You just need to listen and feel with your heart, as if the whole town is surrounded by happiness; You can also collect this romance, or you can taste this romance and use every moment of your happiness; You can also quietly recall a past event, even if it is like the unbearable love of the woman in red.
In romantic feelings, spring youth and summer flowers come to you, and you will hug the town tightly. People's hearts are so close, the hearts are close, the hearts are wide, and the sky is wide.
The town lies quietly on the plateau, just like an organ on the human body, and it is an indispensable part of the plateau. Its tolerance and broadness have been sublimated in the years. Every ray of sunshine, every autumn leaf and every story will turn into a kind of strength, a dream and a hope in late autumn.
I like this town. Perhaps its lifestyle and habits may not be what I pursue, but I feel different happiness and simplicity here. Like this town, I gave birth to countless dreams in this late autumn. ...