There is no boat in the Songjiang River because of the ice jam.
Laoyan sings away hatred at the end of the world,
Xiao Zhi sings the sorrow of separation near the shore.
His whole life is pure and pure,
He is tranquil and leisurely throughout the four seasons.
A period of prosperity has passed away.
I am talking leisurely to the west building.
(Pingshui Yun, Shiyiyou)
In my spare time, I came to the Songhua River again. Looking at the rippling blue waves of the river in the past, it is now covered with ice and snow, and the endless silver dress decorates the river surface, making the entire river surface even more enchanting.
On the snow-capped Songhua River, the liveliness of the past is not lost at all. Although there is no sound of waves and the noise of tourists on yachts, those who play ice sledges, play ice butterflies and other ice and snow games are not at all. There were quite a few of them. They were not afraid of the severe cold and had a lot of fun. Their laughter and laughter could be heard from time to time.
As dusk falls, the orange-red sunset slowly sets like an elf. The tourists gradually leave, leaving the ice and snow talking to the sunset.
The snow sculptures on the river are like elves. It usually shines brightly in the afterglow. It interprets the beauty of winter vividly.
The four seasons cycle, and each season has its own beautiful story. There is no need to regret the spring, and there is no need to mourn the autumn. No matter how difficult the hurdle is, it will be over if you step on it. No matter how rugged the road is, you will get there if you persevere. end.
At the beginning of 2020, an epidemic gave the happy Chinese people a warning.
The festive prelude to the Spring Festival has not yet reached its climax, and Chinese people have responded to the call to stay at home. At home, I watch the number of cases increasing every day on TV and feel panic and lamentation.
My heart aches for those living lives lost to the epidemic every day.
I worry every day about the day I will be "free".
One day, the sun finally rose, the epidemic was subdued by the heroic rebels, and we were reborn.
"Talking and laughing become stories, and they turn into past years."
In the blink of an eye, it is the end of the year again. I count the calendar and there are only a few visible pages left, so I simply put them away. Throw it into the wastebasket.
No matter how extraordinary it is in 2020, it will eventually pass away. No matter how many hardships we experience, we will eventually go on with a straight spine.
All the past is a prologue; all the future is something to look forward to. Let the past pass, as long as we are grateful, as long as we remember that our peaceful years are hard-won, as long as we remember those who have carried the burden for our peaceful years, that is enough!
When the prosperity is gone, I look forward to the years like a song.
We face hardships, we face gains and losses.
The wind comes and the rain falls, and the leaves return in autumn. Life is a series of flowers blooming and falling; life is a series of time travels without regrets.
Carry a basket of warm sunshine to warm up the yellowing lines of poetry; brew a pot of fragrant tea and enjoy the high mountains and long waters with your soul! Tear off today's calendar and don't miss yesterday's story...
Details of the competition can be found at: "Poetry in the World" "Unforgettable 2020" New Year's Eve Poetry Contest The rallying horn has sounded
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