Author: Ji Xianlin
Dusk is mysterious. As long as people can live one more day, there will be a dusk at the end of this day. However, as the years roll and the months roll, they have countless days to live and countless nights. I want to ask: how many people are aware of this dusk? ——
In the morning, when the residual dream flew out of the pillow, they woke up and started a day's walk. They walked and walked until noon, when the road suddenly turned. It seems that they just slipped away until the end of the day. When they saw the white smoke in the distance, the treetops were lightly coated with a layer of golden yellow. When flocks of crows flew back with the sun at dusk, something seemed to be gently pressing on their hearts. They knew that night was coming. They are eager for rest; Longing for the arrival of dreams. Soon, the dim night covered their eyes and hearts. They are busy in the low hut, closing the door at dusk. If someone asks: Have you ever seen dusk? The evening was beautiful, but they were at a loss.
How can they not be at a loss When they leaned out of the cliff to look for dusk, dusk disappeared with the disappearance of white smoke, the golden color on the treetops and the sun color on the crow's back. Only the hazy night is left. This evening, like a light dream on a spring night, came at an unknown time, swept their hearts and disappeared at an unknown time.
I left at dusk. Where did it go? No, I asked first: Where does dusk come from? I can't say for sure. Who knows? Can't catch the dusk, ask to the end. From the east? The east is where the sun rises. From the west? Isn't there hongxia in the west? From the south? There is only light and heat in the south, so it seems most appropriate to say that it comes from the north. If we think about it and think that the end of the North Pole is the Arctic Ocean, we can draw a picture of a white world, a white snow field and a white iceberg in our imagination. Further north, on the white horizon, I can't tell which is the sky, which is the ground, which is the ice and which is the snow, just a hazy gray. Shouldn't the hazy gray dusk degenerate from here?
However, it degenerated, but it spread. Overflow the plains and grasslands, leaving shadows; Overflow the forest, leaving a gloomy darkness, overflow the stream, melt the dark gray twilight into the water, and the water surface shines faintly in silence; Overflow the top of the mountain, leaving them the light of the stars and the light of the moon; Through the village, I left the boundless twilight smoke ... I tore a piece from every corner and caught a spider web. Later, I crossed the lonely desert and came to our country. I can imagine: if I stand in the desert and face the dusk, I can definitely see the dusk coming from the distant horizon. What is it like? It should be like gray fog, right? Or like a spreading cloud? Running, still just left a shadow, running, came to our country, with white smoke in the distance, with a faint golden color on the treetops, and with the color of the sunset crow's back, gently fell on people's hearts and was rejected by people.
However, outside the door, whether people care or not, it arranges a dreamy and poetic fairy tale world for them in a lonely and cold way. It is hazy and dim, just like a shadow reflected in a mirror, and it paints everything with a silver-gray dreamy color. The milk-colored air condenses like real milk. But it seems to flow soft and thick. It brings silence, listen:-as quiet as midnight with heavy snow. But dead? But no, a little more silence than now will turn into a grave. It seems that there is not much at all, not little at all. The beautiful and comfortable tranquility is soft and thick on people's hearts, and the gray sky is like a thin curtain. Trees, houses, smoke lines, clouds, all like silhouettes, quietly stick to this scene. Here, there, dotted with the purple light of the sunset glow and the cold light of the little star. Dusk is really like a poem, a song and a fairy tale. Like the melodious flute from the moon building, there is a crane ringing in the sky; Like Shao wine aged for decades; I like everything that is too beautiful to say. Can't say, can only see; Don't see enough, you can only understand; I can only admire and don't understand. -But it was finally rejected.
Shut people out. Did I say that? I have to be careful, because the so-called people are not all people, and they will never be all people. When I was a child, I often stayed in the courtyard and waited for dusk. I'm not saying this to show that I am better than others. The meaning is simple: if others don't go, or don't want to go, go. I (and others, of course) often do this at the right time. Often in summer, I sit on a short stool and see that the corner is getting dark, and the white walls around me are covered with a faint shadow. In the darkness, the fragrance of cordate telosma seeped into my heart in waves. Bats fly in the sky. The cobwebs on the eaves reflect the gray sky, and in the hazy, you can also count the lines on the internet and the bodies of mosquitoes and flies stuck to it. Suddenly, inadvertently looked up again, and the shiny little star was embedded in the dark gray sky. In winter, the patio is covered with snow. I curled up in the room. When I saw the white window paper turning gray, the flame in the stove became redder and brighter during the day. I will also know that it is dusk. I looked out through the gap in the baffle: the gray sky, the gray roof covered with snow. The half-curved bleak cool moon is printed in the sky, although it is a bit bleak; But still can't hide the beauty of dusk. At this time, even people who often sit in the patio waiting for it to come have to curl up in the room. There is only gray snow outside the deserted door. Who is this hazy world made for? Don't you feel lonely at dusk?
But loneliness won't last long. We still have to leave at dusk. Li Shangyin said in his poem: "to see the sun, for all his glory was buried in the coming night." Isn't the poet lamenting that dusk can't stay long? I really can't stay long. In a blink of an eye, this dusk is like a light dream, which only sweeps in people's hearts, leaving a dark night and leaving with its loneliness.
Gone, really gone. Now let me ask: Where did dusk go? I know this better than where it comes from. I can't catch the tail of dusk and ask what it is. However, it is speculated that northerners should go to the south. Who said it wasn't going south? I saw the development of things. -Over the South Wall; Over the hills and forests in the south; In the beautiful south of China. All the way to Africa. Africa has steep mountains; There is a deep and dark forest on the ridge. Think further, there are tigers in the Woods. Tiger? As dusk approaches, it's time to light up your light green eyes that only show during the day. Is it like two lights? There should also be wild weeds in the forest, which are higher than people. There are lions, big mosquitoes, Okumo and bats in the grass, which are bigger than ordinary bats. The afterglow of the sunset leaked from the thin leaves through the cobwebs on the branches, and the bright golden light shone on the whole forest in reddish brown, which combined with the poisonous gas spit out by poisonous snakes under the grass and became colorful fog. There should be fireflies. It's flashing now, there should be flowers; But I don't think it should be cordate telosma or cordate telosma. What is this? They are all evil poisonous flowers. Shouldn't there be more poisonous gas than evil flowers? The fragrance of this flower slowly melts into the brown-red air and into the gorgeous color fog. Split into a ball; Roll into a warm air. However, the hot air was quickly dissolved by the dark night. Only the flashing fireflies are left, and now they are getting brighter. Tiger's eyes are more like two lamps, silently staring at the stars that have just appeared in the dark gray sky.
However, here, dusk is still going. Where did you go again? No one really knows this. Climb into the dark sky by the light of Leng Yue? Did the little star finish climbing the Tianhe River? On the wings of bats, under the eaves? Is it dissolved behind the distant mountains with the aura of the west? Who can know this clearly? We only know that it is gone, with its loneliness and beauty, like a trace, like a light dream on a spring night.
It's gone. -Now, now what can I ask? Waiting for tomorrow? Tomorrow comes, tomorrow, tomorrow. When people see white smoke in the distance, the treetops are lightly painted with a layer of golden yellow, and flocks of crows fly back with the sun in the twilight, as if something is pressing on their hearts, longing for the arrival of their dreams. Close the door. It's dusk inside and outside, and when they look for it again, it's gone. Running from the Arctic Ocean, passing by, went to the African forest. Where to? Who knows? However, the night has come: a long night, a night with stars and moonlight shining, a night with fragrance … just a night, a long night, a night that will never end. What about dusk? -dusk never exists in people's hearts. Only one prey, gone, like a light dream on a spring night.
References:
/mjwj/jj/ Ji Xianlin /zzz/00 1.htm