"I walk in the south of the Yangtze River/in the season like a lotus ... My horseshoe is a beautiful mistake/I am not a passer-by, but a passer-by ..."
This is a poem with a hint of bitterness. It seems that you can still hear the pounding of hooves gradually moving away from your heart. ...
Although my pen and ink are full, I dare not touch Jiangnan, a fairyland on earth, because it is a transparent dewdrop; Although my poetry is euphemistic, I dare not rashly sigh the dreamy Jiangnan, because this is a meaningful collection of poems. However, I still look forward to you with wandering eyes and miss you with rushing poems, because it is the lingering fragrance of horseshoes that has intoxicated me for thousands of years and lived poetically. You are my Jiangnan.
Jiangnan is good, the center of clear water; Jiangnan plum, in a previous life, has not been returned in this life, and can't bear to go to Jiangnan. Beautiful mistakes, lonely city, everywhere is the sound of horseshoes, vague figures, peach blossoms still, thin and sad all my life, looking back with tears.
From then on, I, as miserable as a poem, set off on horseback and went to Jiangnan in my dream.
Fireworks fly, grass grows and warblers fly. Crossing the barrier of Congfeng Gorge in Saibei, crossing the vast Gobi dust, carrying a fragrant book box, I went upstream, floated into your sight and embedded into your picture. As a result, along the Peach Blossom River in the south of the Yangtze River, there was a dusty but radiant coachman and that ragged one. In this beautiful picture, I was crushed by green eyes and turned into a butterfly. The rich fragrance fascinated me, and I became a peach blossom and a clove. Together with the horses sleeping in the wind, they are obedient, wet and fresh in the soft waves of southern Xinjiang.
Those scenic spots that only exist in heaven are pulling my nerves with every step, and my eyes are always happy to let go of every leaf, every pool of green waves and every battlefield. Let the sound of horseshoes slow, step on the shallow apricot rain, stroll through the green water trestle, pass through the pavilions, linger in the deep gardens, quiet academies, quaint towns and quiet short lanes. Sitting on the stone steps, quietly listening to the broken rain and blooming flowers, feeling the softness and elegance in the details, quietly pursuing the traces of history. After crossing the bridge or bridge, there are lanes, water-accompanied bridges, around houses, and bridges are connected with battlements. You can't see the river or the pavilion all the way. Fireworks in the south of the Yangtze River, one after another, step by step in the painting, always in the dream.
I, and my horse, are lost here, lost in this water town.
How did we get lost here?
The wind, shaking down the catkins beside the embankment, blurred my eyes in Wangjiang, and my childhood was dazzling and astringent. When I picked one, I passed out under the tree. What is the harm of drunkenness in Jiangnan? Drunk in the boat, rest on the blue waves of the lake, pay attention to mountain dance; Warm a pot of old wine, sit at the bow and watch the fishing boat sing late and listen to the rhyme between the lanes. In an instant, tenderness stopped in the stream of time in this indifferent and antique field. My thoughts wander in the water town where the water plants are abundant and the river network is woven. There is water outside my dream. The waters of Taihu Lake, West Lake, Ji 'an, Zhouzhuang, Wuzhen, Qinhuai River and Huangpu River ... ripple in the water town like the south of the Yangtze River, preferring to be transformed into a fish, a stone, a straw rope, a boat, a bridge, a pen and ink flower, a tile or idle clouds, quietly and faintly inhabiting this picture scroll that stretches for thousands of miles.
"Jiangnan flattery" plunged into the river of Tang poetry and Song poetry. Like the past, this river bears the ups and downs of thousands of years of history, and also inherits the mental state of officials, literati and monks. Pick a bunch of apricot blossom rain, open these beautiful silk with fragrance, and then wander in the lake of poetry. The river culture in the Yangtze River valley has achieved magnificent Jiangnan culture, those literati and scholars, and those classic and meaningful poems and songs in the great gathering and blending of Yue culture, Wu culture, Chu culture, Yangzhou culture, Huizhou culture and Jinling culture. In such a river, we will visit the Three Temple of Tianzhu with Taibai, climb Yueyang Tower with Shaoling, watch "the stars come down from the clearing and the moon runs up from the river", play horses with Lotte and Qiantang, go to Qiushan with Chengzhai, take Dongpo * * * to enjoy the empty dream, listen to the flute with Trilateral Drunk, read with Xihe, talk about painting with Gongwang, send feelings to the countryside and sing.
You are a Tang poem, and you are a Song poem? You rode from Jiangnan!
You are a paradise, you are a fairyland, you are a boat, a bowl of wine, an umbrella and a tree deep in my heart, and you are the eternal loneliness and sadness in my heart, the pain of parting, and the burden wet by Meiyu during the journey. Poetic dwelling, colorful Millennium, waning moon like a hook, misty rain in the mountains. "The wine in front of the street is thin and drunk, and it is easy to wake up." How can the loneliness of the whole river be exhausted?
How sad and lonely since ancient times, glitz is a flute. Disappointed and speechless, I got wet in the south of the Yangtze River, wearing a hemp fiber, standing by the water's edge, watching the raindrops fall, the fireworks hiding, Qian Shan setting green, the boat resting, the boatman retreating, lighting and candles alone, thinking like a lonely pile of dusk snow. Holding a willow, I miss floating across the river, my lonely Jiangnan.
Lonely, tired in prosperity, hanging on Xiao Yuebing, the kind of "returning home before you are old, returning home will be heartbroken." Trouble, how also can't see, pull constantly reason also disorderly, disheveled eyes. Loneliness, in the rustling rain curtain, in the distant white sail, that kind of "who knows when you leave to a hundred flowers." I can't hide my sadness, tears wet my sleeves and my heart choked. Loneliness, flying in the fleeting time, hugging and warming in the lonely shirt, that kind of "tonight the curtain is full of flowers, and the pillow is full of sadness." Loneliness can't go far, but it is closer to loneliness and sadness, and muddy tears are scattered on the empty couch.
Ah, my lonely Jiangnan!
My thin horse, dancing alone in the shadow of the postal bridge. Suddenly, in the place where the silver light is flowing and the vegetation is dying, Liu Yong leads a horse as thin as me and gently sings: "The boat sails and rolls, temporarily berthing on the south bank of the Chu River." Hu Jiafen, Pingsha geese, whirling away, painting screen exhibition, shallow eyebrows, twilight, worried eyes, wandering souls, full of sunset photos, breaking clouds far away. "Love thousands of miles, read two amorous feelings, heavy smoke wave water. The rain stopped, the sky was high and the clouds were light, and the twelve Qingfeng peaks could not be seen in the distance. Without words, who will rely on high intentions? It says that there are 10 thousand things except intestines, but who sent them to the clouds? " ……
Brother Liu, I'll send-
A word of surprise, thin horse rustling. People go to the environment, frustrated and tired.
In the shadow of the paddle, Qinhuai shuttled to the lantern boat, and Wuyi Lane was foggy. Look at the lights in the stream, which one plays for me? In retrospect, I was shocked. In the original painting of Ling Bo, a person was heartbroken: "The past is only sad, and the scenery is difficult to arrange. Moss invaded the courtyard in the autumn wind. The bead curtain is idle. Who comes all day long? Jin Jian has been buried and full of vitality. On a cool night, the moonlight blooms. I want to get the shadow of Yujiayao Temple, and I want to take photos of Qinhuai! " ……
Li Ge, I'm coming-
Where the lights are dim, the original painting is dragging. Words are poor, soothing and dry, and Qinhuai River is cool.
In a trance, "a dream is getting thinner over the years", and the strings are broken a few times, so I can't bear to go to Jiangnan.
At dawn, Guanghua walked through the forest, looked up at the sky and knew it was Iraqi. A Jiangnan woman as beautiful as a reed flower, by the stream, "graceful and sloppy, light makeup." Elegant and dignified; In central Holland, "when people feel ashamed and silent, they go back to the boat and hide in the stream." Feminine and charming between harp and harp, "hands are soft and skin is solidified." If you are surprised, if you are Youlong. In such a Jiangnan, it is doomed to meet unexpectedly, a beautiful and smart Jiangnan woman with tender feelings.
Are you my beauty? Leading the road, the beautiful eyes of hope wash away my tired heart, stop in the fragrance of your ribbon, close your eyes and rest. I opened my eyes, my hair brushed my face like a waterfall, and I left gracefully, like a cloud, leaving me alone to look at the cloud leisurely and seriously. ...
Tied to the laurel tree, I sat by the ancient bridge where the river was gurgling, watching the ships and passengers passing by under the bridge. On the edge of the stone steps, gentle waves slowly kissed the dark green shore, and the woman with the clothes on her pulp fell on the water, her hair flowing like clouds on her chest. Handy stone benches, shiny bamboo chairs, faint scent of tea, chatting grandfathers and grandmothers, and playful little brothers and sisters all make this ancient water town look particularly warm, quiet and peaceful.
Indulge in the ancient town, where there are beautiful women and good times in the south of the Yangtze River. Affectionate and lonely Jiangnan, how I want time to stop, turn into a bluestone beside your green water, a touch of moss on the white wall, and a bird on the old tree, and accompany you quietly for a long time. I can't. Because I am not a returnee, I am a passer-by, and in the end I will be your beautiful past.
However, I still want to say that beauty is like a dream. Would you like to lead the horse and me to the end of the world?
Affectionate Jiangnan, my sad Jiangnan, how can you make me so lonely? Why can't I walk into your heart? Can't bear to go to Jiangnan!
Wandering in the south of the Yangtze River, looking at the flowers, let this reincarnation, the most troublesome place of local conditions and customs, when people feel lonely. All the glitz is gone, so why not waste time? Lacrimosa, I can't bear to look back. Looking back again, he waved his hand and said, "In the swing, the running water goes with the day." Unfortunately, time passes like running water. I'm really worried about the country's ups and downs. As Huan Wen said, the trees have grown so much! Who is calling for money, red scarf and green sleeves, heroic tears! "I used to ride a horse in Jiangnan.
Bibo Li Qian's beautiful mountains and rivers, a dreamy girl, is a thousand years younger. And my Jiangnan, where are you? Do you know that I have followed you for thousands of years, looking back for thousands of years, and I have not come out yet!
"Guizi falls in the moon, and it is sweet." Sanskrit is hazy and sandalwood is curled up. On the way to Daxianglin, a thin horse like me walked quietly in the rain and got wet with those yellowed lines, leaving a line of melancholy and desolation.
Looking back suddenly, in the drizzle, I vaguely saw-"a girl holding an oiled paper umbrella, wandering alone/in a long, long, lonely rain lane/... a lilac-like/sad girl ..."