rivulet
Running all the way, singing all the way,
A stream carrying life.
A little spray, a big smile.
Slowly undercurrent, surging boiling blood.
Mountains and rivers are no longer lonely, because of your murmur.
Because of your inflow, the lake has widened.
You enjoy yourself in the arms of the earth.
You are intoxicated in the breeze.
Running all the way, singing all the way,
A stream carrying life.
The sun shines warmly on your face.
Month is full of tenderness in your kindness.
You play soothing music for plants.
You added elegant dance music to the birds.
A passionate stream,
Pentium in my heart, singing.
From the vast grassland to the desert shoal.
From Jiangnan Water Town to Saibei Gobi.
Your figure shines with brilliance.
The motherland is full of vitality because of your magnificence.
I love you, the stream that carries life.
Meaning: a stream, a trickle, just flows, flows, flows for 300 years, and still flows. How vigorous this stream should be. When we didn't find it, it never stopped flowing, but at that time it was covered by trees, weeds and rocks, or on that high mountain top, we couldn't see it for the time being.
The river may swell for a while and the waves will roll up thousands of piles of snow. But rivers will freeze, stop flowing and even dry up for a while. No, the stream will always be clear and shallow, and will never freeze, cut off or dry up because of the season and external reasons. We can't see it, not because it doesn't exist, but because there is something wrong with our eyes: myopia, hyperopia, amblyopia, color blindness, cataracts, blindness, or just looking down at the raging river, or just willing to look down at several high waterfalls in thousands of feet, and we don't notice the existence of the stream at all. The stream is right beside us, maybe under our feet. It passed through the gravel and grass, disappeared into the jungle and mountain stream, and walked where no one could even fly.
On the steep cliff, it still flows; In a remote corner, it is still flowing; In the sunshine and moonlight, it still flows; Under the attack of wind, frost, rain and snow, it still flows ... The water in the stream will not be wild and unrestrained, and will not be shocked by passion, but it will be touching, not violent and cold, not easily falling branches, and not falling leaves like the spray of a waterfall. Instead, it will always be small but flow quietly forward. It has the unique stability, symmetry, tranquility, serenity, sacredness and lasting beauty of this baroque style. Its beauty lies not in its volume, but in its infiltration into the eternal mind and years, just like carving it into the annual rings in the heart of a tree. It is not a glass of liquor, which blooms like fireworks and burns like fire when swallowed; That's just your tears. When you need it most, it hangs around your neck like a pearl necklace or moistens your heart quietly.
This is the character and character of Xiaoxi.
This is Bach's character and character.
Some people say that Bach is great and called Bach "the father of music". It is said that almost no great musician who appeared after Bach was not nourished by him. Beethoven, Schumann, Linsky Kosakov, Raigur, Schoenberg, Shostakovich ...
Greatness is not always majestic and high-spirited, like a temple. Greatness can be a mountain or a river, but greatness can also be a stream. Bach is such a clean stream.
Water, when the world is cold, in the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period, the mountains were razed to the ground, the rivers lost their surging, and the rivers changed their channels, but as always, the streams still trickled, clear and quiet. That's enough. This is the greatness of streams.
Listening to Bach's music, you will always see such a quiet, serene and clear stream flowing in front of you.
On a quiet night like water, Bach's music (those mass and organ music) is the spire church under the blue night sky like malachite, bathed in the bright moonlight. Not far from the church, there flows such a stream, which is long-sleeved and good at dancing, winding into the night, with the silent and slender shadow of the church and the silver light of moonlight jumping on the stream. ...
On sunny days, Bach's music (chorus and hymn of the Virgin Mary) is an endless Yuan Ye with lush grass and fragrant wildflowers. The warm atmosphere is rising, and a group of white clouds flowing like white sheep are connected with the distant horizon. From the hazy horizon, there comes such a clear stream, which shines with golden light, but brings cordial greetings and gentle calls like dreams. ...