The clear and clear sound of the piano penetrated the night sky and floated far away in the bright breeze.
Ming is yearning for the grassland in his heart again.
Ming and I are neighbors and college classmates. After graduation, we stayed in the provincial capital together. Ming is a Mongolian, but he has been away from the grassland for too long. There is no heroic spirit of galloping on the grassland, no life of eating mutton and drinking goat milk. Although we bid farewell to the grassland, we have inherited the nature of the grassland people who can sing and dance, and they can play the matouqin to perfection.
Whenever we have free time, three or five of us get together, and it turns out that we are from Nalaqu.
The melodious sound of the piano beats like flowing water. Ming's body is straight and upright, with his left foot in front and his right foot behind, in a T-step. The lower right corner of the piano case is sandwiched between the thigh and calf of the right leg, and the lower left corner of the piano case is placed on the top of the calf of the left leg. . The right hand opens the tiger's mouth to clamp the bow handle, the ring finger and little finger are on the bow hair, the index finger and middle finger are placed on the bow rod, the left hand holds the piano, the upper arm and forearm are at a ninety degree angle, and he is playing "I Come from the Grassland". The deep gaze and the focused expression hold the hearts of the homesick people returning home, and together with the beautiful sound of the piano, they drift to the distant grassland.
The sound of the piano is passionate, like a galloping horse. A tall chestnut-brown horse gallops on the green grassland, with its hooves tumbling and its long mane flying. The young man leading the horse is full of high spirits.
The melodious sound of the piano is like holding grandma’s hand, watching the green grass swaying, and watching the red sun return to the mountains. Grandma’s loving eyes and the stories about the grassland that Grandma told warmed the entire grassland.
The mellow sound of the piano is like the salty milk tea carefully brewed by grandma. It is fragrant, sweet and mellow, sweet in the mouth and drunk in the heart.
The sound of the piano whispers, as if a child traveling far away is murmuring in his dream. In his dream, there are galloping horses, docile sheep, and the loving face of his mother.
“Eight hundred years of history, eight hundred years of love, eight hundred years of rivers and eight hundred years of sea, together under the blue sky on the plateau, eight hundred years of affectionate love... I come from the grassland”! We couldn't help but sing along with the sound of the piano. The sound of the piano led the singing, and the singing and the sound of the piano flew to that distant place.
Nostalgia is a thin string. I am on this side of the string, and you are on the other side of the string...