It's always foggy in Wo He in the morning. It seems to be woven from the wings of thousands of white seagulls, which is shocking white. It is often until eleven or twelve o'clock that the sun can barely break away from the wings of seagulls, which are covered with slowly fading white spots. People like to watch the magnificent waves of sunrise, but the sunrise seen in Wo He is so depressing and unbearable.
However, the sunset in Helvo is always surprising and full of blood. I watch the sunset that cleanses my soul. Although I am old, I can't make myself poetic or romantic. I couldn't help screaming for a while. Ah! What a magnificent sunset! Classic version of the sun, a smash hit sun! It is brilliant, sincere and dazzling. I feel that the whole earth is shaking slightly at this time. Because there is a sword-like penetration in the hands of the strong, because there is an appeal that is better than all the swan songs. I subconsciously rubbed my eyes and stared at them repeatedly-it stood transfixed on the opposite mountain peak opposite the empty Silicon Valley, staring enthusiastically and boldly at everything in the world after a hard day's work, and a loud voice came out of the corner of my eye: Bye-bye! Bye. Bye. So the mountain responded. It said goodbye! The water is responding, too. It is saying goodbye! Everything in the world is responding, saying goodbye! Bye. Bye. Ah! Sounds like fire! That sound is like molten steel! Sounds like magma!
What an inseparable scene at sunset!
-it is the time when sparks flow and burst in the eyes!
At this time, I suddenly remembered Du Fu's poem "The ground under the sun is flat" written in his hometown. The sun had no feet, but it finally had feet because of the stimulation and cultivation of Du Fu, who was edified by our national aesthetics. It's time for the sun's feet to land. In the feeling, the feet of the sun clearly appeared at this moment. It is huge and powerful, and its tendons are elastic. Now you think about this day, think about the sun on this day. Although the sun on this day has vibrant feet, it is always like a lazy man who refuses to move forward. We looked up at it, but it did not move; We looked up at it again, but it still did not move. But it's different now. As the greatest walker in the universe, it only shows all the charm of its walkers at this moment! Look at its feet, how strong and fast! Its settling speed at this moment is calculated in minutes and seconds. You have to keep stretching your neck and stand on tiptoe to race it. Don't blink at this moment. If you blink, it may abandon you, and even you can't see its back. I have experienced this kind of bad luck many times. I suddenly fell into the twilight, like a balcony lost in the fog. Ahem!
But I turned into Houyi many times and chased the sun many times. Of course, my pursuit of the sun is not to advance, but to turn around and look back. When I reached the height of the mountain, the brilliant red of the mountain flew up and gasped. When I stepped on it, it was still burning, and I was all red. Of course, I saw the sun again, and there were colorful satin clouds arching the sun, and coral-like bird wings in the clouds.
I was completely immersed in a solemn baptism at that time. I stopped thinking. All the paleness, depression and fantasy in the world have disappeared from my eyes. I later thought, is this how the soul of heaven and earth is purified? It's possible. Now I know that night is coming, but my heart is bright. Ah! My sun! Brilliant sun! I think I heard the bearded Pavarotti singing. His high-pitched voice and the * * * sound on his chest echoed Qian Shan. Therefore, Pavarotti is everywhere, and the roaring light of the sunset is everywhere. Thousands of substances and colors in light are flying, drifting, rising, settling, rotating or bursting. Ah, this sunset moment, this fermentation moment, this most active moment in the high sky, this moment, every molecule is running and dancing all over the sky. The burning sky, the land of nirvana, and the burning nirvana reveal a line of high-spirited Chinese characters written by a giant pen: What do you say about Western jackdaw heartbroken at sunset! In the sunset, you fall, you fall, you fall into the deep pool of ink, and you are dark. When the Ming Dynasty jumped out again, it was a bright red, more beautiful overture, and the overture was played by an endless symphony orchestra!
In those days, almost every evening, I rushed to the hillside of Helvo to watch the sunset. I regard the sunset as a close friend, and I expect the sunset to look at me like this. I have been in a state of excitement for those days. I always have a voice. This voice has been teasing me. That day, I will never forget the day when I long for a spiritual meal every day. It is a day of incomparable luxury and abundance.
And such a day, in the mileage of my life, has always been there. It was on the way from Manchuria to Moscow. Trains are banging in the vast northwest of Leah. I knocked for six days in a row. With a bang, the skeleton will fall apart. The only thing people like is that they can enjoy the magnificent scenery in northwest Asia, see the endless grass waves undulating with the wind, see the Suwumu grazing sheep on the banks of Lake Baikal, and see colorful sunrises and sunsets every day. But we usually wake up late in the morning, so we still watch more sunsets.
In the long journey of six days and six nights, watching the sunset has another strange feeling. I saw the sunset at 6 pm the day before. Sunset is like everything the Russians fiddle with: heavy and heavy. Oh, what a nice day! The sunset is like a pot of pepper fried in a seven-foot cauldron, with a threatening choking smell, although it is many light years away from my train. The suffocating smell makes my face sweat. At six o'clock the next day, when I was about to receive pepper moxibustion, it was strange that the sun hung like a Chinese rice mill for a long time and did not move. Until seven o'clock, the blood-red grinding disc finally landed on the horizon with a bang, and its splashing sunset glow was particularly gorgeous, just like the palette of the immortal Russian painter Lie Bin, casual and eye-catching. When the wind blows, the hot grass on the horizon boils against the sunset glow, and a group of red horses are buried in it. On the third day, the sunset was as late as eight o'clock. Looking at this sunset, people obviously realize that longitude is tied to our ancient earth like a rope, which evokes a scientific concept. But I don't want to think much about how the earth goes around the sun, but I am addicted to my aesthetics. Every afternoon, I always lean on the coffee table to watch the morning session. Every day, I look at all kinds of colorful sunsets, how to waste tons of colors, how to sink into the burning sunset, or on the top of the mountain, or in rivers, or in the boundless forest. At this time, I thought of countless kings who ruled this land, because most of them were once called the sun, which was frightening and speechless, but once upon a time, they could not afford to fall. At the same time, I think of Pushkin, who is called the sun of Russian poetry. Only he has ups and downs, and he has no ego. I heard his charming poems playing in the carriage. This sun is the sun of love.
Speaking of poetry, in my hazy memory, there are bursts of songs, and the beautiful melody of the Book of Songs comes unexpectedly. That is the song of our ancient ancestors: "Chickens were born in the hustle and bustle, the day has passed, and cattle and sheep come down to earth." It has experienced more than 2,000 years of wind, frost, rain, snow and bonfire smoke, but it has not lost its brilliance so far, and there is no language barrier, just like singing in childhood. The northern Shaanxi ballads I heard when I was a child were simply copied: "The sun is shining, the cattle and sheep are back, and we are going to eat." The' sunset' in these ballads is not magnificent, Wordsworth or brilliant, especially the sunset in my hometown. I have never cherished it, but I can only dust it in a corner of my brain, but today I dig it out and savor it carefully, but it is so comfortable and charming!
The sun shines on the mountains, and cattle and sheep return.
This is an ordinary scene. This is a warm atmosphere. This is an affectionate charm. In my memory, I first found that the sun was tilted, and then I vaguely felt that the sun accelerated its pace, and the light and shadow changed alternately and went out clearly. Black and red, colorful light gradually swept over mountains, headlands, beams and gullies; Then, the chill quietly escaped from the bottom of the stone, from the spring, and from the clouds; Then the sun suddenly hit the mountain. In an instant, the sunset glow turned into gold-some mountains turned into porcelain, some mountains into bronze, more mountains turned into gold, platinum, gold and red gold, while caves, cliffs, markets, gray cloth uniforms, 38 guns, sheep bellies, towels, old fur coats, cattle and sheep coming back from the mountains, chickens ready to be put on shelves, cigarettes rising from chimneys, and a child named Zhang Wa who ran wild. At this time, mothers with pink cheeks often come out to call Zhang Wa for dinner. At that time, my mother was still young, and the sweat on her face seemed to roll on the petals. Even her voice was full of the color of the sunset and the fragrance of the petals. Zhang Wa asked, "What to eat?" She said, "Yellow rice is rice." Zhang Wa said, "I'm not hungry yet!" "This broken ghost!" Mom is in a hurry. But Zhang Wa ran away as soon as she turned her head. Under the setting sun, it is like a flying flame. Broken souls often forget everything, so he never noticed how the sunset suddenly sank from the mountain. But the sunset is also setting. So when his mother turned to call him again, he was no longer a flame. When the sun sets, he becomes an extinguished matchstick, or a black sesame. At this time, you see the blue sky opposite, or the sunset.
And I am old, Zhang Wa solemnly played the banner of Liu Chengzhang, because in a poem by Ye Shuai, almost all organizations or activities of the elderly are called "sunset red". The old people in their hometown obviously like this name. An aunt next door is an activist of sunset red. She often goes to activities, dances, sings, dances yangko and is beaming. Moreover, most of their activities are arranged after dinner, which is when the sun sets. This is really an unintentional and beautiful fit. One day I went home and asked where my aunt next door had gone. My aunt's wife replied discontentedly, "Where else can I go?" Even if I don't wash my rice bowl, I will go to see the sunset! "The old man's words made me almost laugh. I can't help looking up at the sunset on the mountain and thinking, sunset, sunset, your solemn and sacred color has been added with humor by our fellow villagers. What a wonderful move!
Sunset decorates people, and people are full of sunsets.
That day, I was breathing fresh air in the Pacific Harbor of the United States, watching China TV, which I couldn't live without all day, and suddenly I saw the sunset in northern Shaanxi. Seeing the sunset in northern Shaanxi is like an electric current flowing through my veins, and my eyes burst into sparks. What makes the sparks splash is the musical works sung on it. In fact, it is the Liang Geliang, which I wrote. The song was sung by Fan Linlin, a singer known as the Queen of Vocal Music. Fan Linlin sang the last sentence: "Come to this beam and cut two piles of firewood, and we will carry them back one by one." Hearing this, I found something I didn't realize. It contains absolutely nothing but the sunset, the most beautiful sunset in the world and the sunset lingering in the sky. The sunset is falling, falling, falling. The earth is responding to Fan Linlin's song. The mountains are red with grass when the sun sets. There are mountains in the sunset, and there are stones in the mountains. When the sun sets, the mountains are red, and all the people in the mountains are red. Mountains, like Mulan and blue flowers, were born here. At this moment, they are like women dressed in Xintianyou's works. They know they are red jackets, red trousers, and red hair bands.
Ah, the sunset in my hometown!
The sunset is constantly changing, like a magician's peerless performance. A thousand eyes. Ten thousand faces. It shines on changing cows, changing sheep, changing three brothers and two sisters, who are carrying firewood down the mountain. Cattle are the broken chardonnay of kaleidoscope, sheep are the broken chardonnay of kaleidoscope, and three brothers and two sisters are also the broken chardonnay of kaleidoscope. Every piece of broken chardonnay is like a flying butterfly. And I, separated from this scene by the sea of Wang Yang, should be an envelope tour that was born on the loess slope, an envelope tour that once floated between the valleys in front of the mountains in northern Shaanxi, and an envelope tour with white hair wandering outside. On the road in the clouds, on the road with frost and snow on my head, I was exposed to the sunset in many mountains and rivers. Although there is some pride in the tone, it is difficult to hide the endless bitterness and pain. Floating clouds are like wanderers, like wandering, and the sunset slowly goes down the mountain, which seems to be nostalgic. Now I really want to wander in Wan Li and catch up with the sunset in my hometown. I know the pace of sunset is quick and short. When I get there, I must use myself as all the lyrics and melodies of the letter tour, and I must fly high with stronger strength; Don't slow down, don't have a falling sound, don't rest, don't spin slowly, but quickly and hurriedly, come to a series of ups and downs, up to an octave, up to higher and higher places in the blue sky, and look at the sunset in your hometown with muddy and moist eyes.
When I saw the sunset in my hometown again, I was suddenly surprised. Suddenly I heard my mother's voice. I suddenly realized: mom, mom, my mom, my mom, you are the sunset. But mom! Forgive the child, forgive your unfilial son, he came back one step late, you have fallen behind! You have been deeply buried in the loess, and you are lonely! Very sad! But I see your light has burned through the loess, and your grave has opened a bunch of red flowers. I know my mother, I dream of my mother at night, my sun, and I know that you will rise again one day. It's just that you've worked hard all your life and you're really tired. You should have a rest now, regain your light in the rest, and then reappear in front of me one day to warm my whole body. Mom, mom, mom! I am singing a sad letter journey for you. Facing you, I am an endless journey of letters. I will fly around your grave. As long as you don't come back to life, I will bleed for 800 years.