Knowing that there will be no afterlife, I still want to daydream thousands of miles away. Who can refuse the temptation of dreams? Although it won't let me go to heaven, at least it will be gorgeous. With dreams and expectations, tomorrow will always be lush.
Thinking about the design of the afterlife, water is a mirror of the soul, perhaps it reflects my most yearning and farthest expectation. The afterlife is not a simple compensation and continuation of this life. It entrusts my future thoughts and comforts my heart with regrets despite my gains. I never stopped looking for it. What kind of life do I want?
Hematopoietic cells that migrate and dissociate bone marrow often naturally produce and release new blood cells, which are all over the skin and blood vessels. At the moment, my heart is in turmoil, and I want to set off, but I have already been fixed in a fixed position, and the roots of my feet are deeply implanted in the concrete floor, allowing the secular wind and rain to invade her. The body keeps peeling off trivial pieces. Gradually drowned the desire of travel and painters. In early autumn, people can't help themselves. How many ears of rice and wheat, how many fruits in spring and autumn, how many joys and sorrows, and how many relatives are waiting for me among them? I have no intention of lifting my sweaty cheeks and taking a look at the color of the sky and the lightness of the clouds. ...
I miss the grassland, flowing water and green hills in the distance. I was drunk on the boat when I dreamed of chrysanthemum, and the moonlight was full of flutes. I saw the flame in the water lit the most beautiful flowers, and my figure was cleaner than the baptized stream. After waking up, I realized that it was just a beautiful illusion. Occasionally, I want to fly by myself, kiss strange grass, step on fluffy catkins flying in the warm sunshine, and let the cool air wash my heart. However, when the idea itself has become a luxury, the idea of doing it is still tied to the common thorn, and the inexplicable taste suddenly spreads.
Repeatedly repeating the dream of growing up: the body is flat, flying slowly like a dragonfly, gliding and dancing like a swallow, and the whole body passes through dizzy happiness. And the flight is often interrupted by his own laughter and falls from a height. ...
A heavy body and a leisurely soul are often separated from each other.
The bird's happiness is to have itself, and my yearning is a little more freedom. But everything in the world is not absolutely free, just as nothing can get rid of the gravity of the earth. After the experience, I know more clearly that the afterlife I yearn for is a state of flying-wandering purposefully, trudging at the end, caring about freedom, meeting and parting …
Just be a bird. There are no ugly birds between heaven and earth, gorgeous, simple, singing and silent, all beautiful and impeccable. God is undoubtedly full of preference for birds, and birds are the enlighteners of being kind to life. Let crawling, walking and running creatures look up and admire, including human beings. Angels in the west, Chang 'e in the east, winged people have never surpassed the feathers of light birds. Holding the drizzle in March and the chirping of the stars and the moon, I put the tears of sigh into the buds in my heart, so that the sound of each rose warms the cold butterfly in the wind. Living like an elf, what kind of nature should I have to give birth to flying wings?
I am obsessed with literature in my life, but I still embrace words and love the realm related to poetry in my next life. Then be a migratory bird. Migratory birds set out from the source of poetry, covered with the brilliance of Tang poetry and Song poetry, hung with pollen and sunshine, and bathed in the homesick eyes of wanderers. Are migratory birds a symbol of hometown? Every year, when I hear the call of the northland to leave the spring grass, I want to bid farewell to the south of the Yangtze River where the rain hits the banana. Who will follow my path and sing with tears? Go to Qiu Lai in spring and fly everywhere. South and North, where is the rest garden of my soul? It starts and ends at home. travel
Thinking, homesickness ... these warm and cold words make my eyes dance. My hometown makes my resume heavy, and farewell to my hometown makes me feel pain and sadness again.
Are you leaving your hometown or returning home? The beautiful scenery along the way opened my curious eyes. When I got to my hometown, I went to look for the "old house" and the scars of the past; Or pick up the soft old branches of perennial grass one by one and make a dream nest full of sunshine and rainbows. Only at this time will colorful acacia trees open at the positions of cloud corners and branches.
"The white dew is frost, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side." I'll never get out of the Book of Songs. I often worship water, love Lu Fan and pity Lu Ping. I can't give up any of the three frivolous and wonderful Iraqis. Lu Hua is dreamlike and hazy. Although it is not fragrant and beautiful, I love it. Let the reed stem hook away the light in my heart, and let the reed flower calm my heart. Who can understand this cold and warm scene without symbol or confession? All the hints are in the running water.
Or just be a red-crowned crane. I stood in my heart, starting with the first crane. Suddenly I feel that this idea is too extravagant and perfect. It's just that I can't refuse the call of fate and the sweet trap I created. I like to wear white and black skirts. I love the purity of white and the nobility of black. This is the graceful gesture of the red-crowned crane. In the dancing lake, I couldn't help kneeling down, holding a handful of red and black soil, touching the pulse of life, and then the dust of previous lives overflowed from the corner of my eyes, so I wanted to have a quiet and broad-minded artistic conception of "Life only wants to die at the water's edge, give me wings to tease the autumn rain".
Look up at the flowing clouds and fly brocade, lie down and look at the clouds. The world of mortals is not worried. Looking at the lush lake and lush reeds, listening to the sound of green liquid gurgling through the stems and leaves, listening to the beautiful sound of Hongyan and Egrets whispering quietly. Or a beach full of flowers, or a bright moon in the water, this is where my soul belongs.
In this way, I can get close to the blue sky I pray for the earth in the sky. I feel the sound of feathers rubbing against the long wind and sunshine. I feel the tenderness and trembling of white clouds touching their wings. Read the glow of thousands of weather, read the agility of the misty mountain. I hover, I low back. ...
To be a migratory bird, you should be a migratory bird accompanied by Shui Ze, Lu Hua and Duckweed, a perfect elf with black and white feathers.
For the dream of cranes, I will grasp the scale of spring and love. For the sake of this life and the afterlife, under the wild sky, an ordinary corn, a string of fragrant velvet flowers, a faint flame of beans and a bright little fish will all be vines that my soul clings to, and they will all be classics that I read tirelessly.
Measure the distance from heart to heart with wings and feathers. Even if you can't reach the other side of the long-distance movement because of fatigue, why are you afraid of being buried in the wide water and falling into the deep stream? As a migratory bird, I have no regrets.
I really like wearing black and white. It doesn't matter to me whether wandering is my nature or the helplessness of life. I'm in Nanjing now, and I may go to other places later. Anyway, this migratory bird has settled down.
Menghongqiao
Go to see Hongqiao in autumn!
Listen to dream songs in the patterns of cicada wings, and draw the fragrance of seclusion in the depths of the mosaic core.
Standing in the wind, listening to the rustling leaves, watching the lonely geese go south, watching the arc of the startled birds, sketching the trajectory of the leaves falling, indulging the soul to wander, fluctuating in the green ripples, and washing the soul in the sound of the field.
Silence, I know what is the temptation in the dying seven colors. Let the thoughts come up again and again. Mercedes-Benz, fill your eyes.
Affectionate tears, moved by a drop of dew on the tip of the leaf, fell to the ground, shattered and began to surprise.
Close my eyes, keep the charming figure of Hongqiao, care for her colorful silk like a lover, let her tenderness smash my heart door into countless pieces, and then piece together the white house, so that my thoughts stop there. Dreaming of going to see Hongqiao, dandelions in my heart will set off colorful colors and float in all directions, looking for my life track and planting warmth and romance on both sides.
(The following versions are all published by Inner Mongolia Culture Publishing House. Please indicate the page numbers involved. )
"Ding Rinrin, Ding Rinrin ..." Under the touch of Chunyang, Ding Rinrin exudes golden luster, as if playing a touching heart song and humming a beautiful story. Yes, the story is so beautiful that people can't bear to disturb him. But how can I let him be buried in the lost years?
Students read classic prose? 6? 1 Lyric Love Bells P2)
The thread was broken, and a kite floated with a long ribbon, wrapped in golden sunshine, and fell into a large forest.
An autumn with a faint smile.
In the Woods, the child with the spool said disappointedly, Dad, the kite doesn't fly.
The father picked up the broken kite and gave it to the child, saying that the kite is not flying, so it's time for you to start.
where am I going?
Find a place where you can fly kites.
At the age of seven, I learned "ideal" from my teacher, and I easily pushed myself into the crowded ranks of dreamers. From then on, I began to play my destiny with my heart as the point and time and space as the piano, hoping that one day, the sun, the moon and the stars would cycle on the keys.
……
I put my hand into my chest and stroked these carriers of life value one by one. Just as blind people know Braille, I know the ups and downs of the years.
Is the ideal to stay here? Children trudged along, with dull weeds under their feet, skirts torn by thorny bushes, and wild birds and crows crying sadly. He kept walking and walking. I don't know how long it took, but the child suddenly found that there was a complete sky where the sun rose.
The child ran like crazy, and the Woods were behind him. There was a lonely emptiness before his eyes. Without the barrier of branches, the drunken sunrise is no longer a piece, the blue sky is no longer a wisp, and the world is complete.
……
My ideal is on the shore, and my eyes are underwater. I don't know who stirred the water, but I'm lost. I opened my eyes hard, hoping to see where this endless source of life flows, and how my feet follow this flowing water to find ups and downs.
……
We try to decorate young life more noble and carve it more skillfully, so we pursue mysterious symbols. However, we all misinterpret the meaning of symbols.
Life is a sword, ideal is a sword, and symbol is a sheath.
Students read classic prose? 6? 1 lyric sketch "kite dreaming")
You saw the bank that was immune to you, stood up with the promise of defending the countryside, and stood in the wilderness day and night, preferring to wear your youth by the fleeting running water.
You saw the tree where the soul entered, and stood up silently. With the promise of shade, you tried to stand higher and higher, regardless that you might be the first target of the storm.
How many lives have proved to you that the power and value of standing up with all emotions are unparalleled.
So you have determined the most meaningful and vital attitude towards life, so that your commitment can hold water.
Or stand in a pair of eyes as a bridge of expectation, so that life is blocked by your persistence in the eardrum;
Or stand in the night as a street lamp, so that others can add confidence when walking at night because of your bright colors.
You said that if you only embrace a ship that is sailing hard, you will be a sail in the same boat. Rain is your companion and wind is your support.
You said that if you worship only that dazzling red flag, you will stand as an unshakable flagpole. Wherever it flies, you support it; You can stand as long as it calls.
Your sigh is deep and wonderful: the promise that can't stand the test is just a pale and shallow label.
Students read classic prose? 6? 1 Lyrics "Let Your Promise Stand Up" P8)
When the cold north wind soaked enough paper, the East followed my childhood dream. ...
Students read classic prose? 6? 1 Lyrics "My Farmer Father" P 14)
At dusk, the leaves are fragrant, and the smell of weeds in the dust is something that haunts him in early autumn. The stream passed through spring, summer and autumn, as if it had entered another world overnight. The whole earth was covered with a golden coat, an autumn wind blew, and the leaves bid farewell to life. At the end of their lives, they danced with the songs played by the autumn wind and landed in the stream.
-Jiang Zongjie's "Running Water and Clouds"
When it comes to autumn, what flavor comes to mind first? Some say it's the aroma of ripe grapes, some say it's the sweetness of canned food and jelly in the kitchen, and some say it's the aroma of apples when they are harvested. I thought that for most people, it should be the smell of bright burning leaves. Unexpectedly, many people say that the smell of grass, sunflower and dust mixed together is the dry smell of autumn.
-Irving's Collection of Autumn Fields
A lonely boat, like a dead leaf falling in the middle of the lake, slowly depicts a vast autumn scenery on the calm water. There is a faint mist on the lake, like a blue-gray transparent gauze, which covers the rolling distant mountains, but they seem indecisive and absent. However, on the hillside near the lake, the colors of several autumn stars are still revealed: gold, crimson, dark green that became deep in the autumn wind, and ancient roofs that remind people of distant history. ...
-Zhao's West Lake
The four seasons in Taiwan Province Province are not obvious, and the spring and autumn are the most fleeting. They are always sleepy and afraid of meeting people. Therefore, we can't see breathtaking scenery, such as Shan Ye where maple trees are in full bloom and endless fallen trees. If you want to catch the breath of autumn, you have to wait patiently for the late autumn and get on the small train on the East China Line. Qiu Guang is very warm, and the golden rice and the wind are rippling. On the open river bed, the Miscanthus flowers are the most affectionate and cover the whole field of vision. In the past, they stretched infinitely and reached the foot of the opposite mountain, making autumn a sad season.
-"Little Train on East China Line"