Your home is on the mountain, so you have to go more than ten miles downstream. On both sides of the stream are lush towering trees, many of which we have never embraced. Clear spring water flows between tunnels formed by tree crowns, forest frogs sing on leaves, and squirrels run back and forth overhead. The tall and straight Liquidambar formosana, the stout pistachio, the beautiful hard training, the delicate Machilus formosana, the graceful Pterocarya formosana and the vigorous catalpa. I caught a damselfly on a fern leaf and handed it to your palm. You breathe a sigh of relief at it, loosen your fingers, and it will stay in your palm honestly and never leave. Autumn leaves, red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple, are like rainbows falling on the earth, dazzling everywhere. The fruit of Gleditsia sinensis is in its wings, ready to fly in the wind. The fruit of the oak tree is round, and it can jump off the branches and roll on the hillside at any time. Broussonetia papyrifera is waiting for birds to visit and offer red fruits. The cherry blossoms in Maoye Mountain secretly opened several pink flowers. You took my hand and walked in the mottled forest, in the heather trees in Qian Qian, and in the evergreen privet trees. Fragments of sunshine are scattered all over the floor, and the fresh air is refreshing.
Hand in hand, we climbed up the post, the autumn dyed forest was gorgeous and thick, the cicada forest was quieter and Tonamiyama was more secluded. A path in the forest, covered with pine needles and leaves of broad-leaved forest, is very soft and comfortable to step on. Akebia Akebia split her baby pink lips, and chestnut rain fell in the mountain wind. Pinus massoniana opened the green pine needles in the autumn wind and fiddled with the strings ... She turned the tuning pin and tested several strings. Even before she played, we could feel her feelings. A few drops of ivory turpentine dripped from the branches and stuck to the wings of a playful butterfly. You gently grab the butterfly and find that turpentine can't be cleaned, but it breaks its tulle wings. You shed tears sadly: "Will butterflies die?" The autumn sun is warm and calm. It is as red as a big lantern hanging on a deciduous Chinese tallow tree. The farmer who came back at dusk took his buffalo and walked into the lantern together, so a flock of geese flew south from the lantern.
Your home is near the village, facing south, and Qiuyang can directly enter the hall through your porch. A rooster and a flock of hens are looking for food, a dog is basking in the sun in front of the door, and a lazy black cat is sticking out the door on the roof. A pot of orchids under the eaves and a jujube tree in the backyard. There is running water at the door, which is mountain spring water drawn from the source of the stream with bamboo. That time you washed clothes by the bamboo bowl, I picked many petals of magnolia, put them in the bamboo bowl one by one from the source, and sent them to her house with tap water. The basin is full of white petals. You put down your clothes and found me along the bamboo path. I gently took her hand and climbed the hillside full of wild chrysanthemums, touching the skin of the mountain. I saw your parents' bamboo poles covered with magnolia petals, and the long kitchen smoke melted in the morning fog. Looking up, the mountains are stacked, the spring scenery is dyed and colorful everywhere. The morning glow has also painted your outline with a round of soft Phnom Penh, and since then it has also been plated with a dream that I will never wake up.
The night is dim, we sit on the rocks, the village lights are dim, autumn insects are chirping in the grass, the nightingale's wings are touching the chest of the night, and the stars are shining across the empty space of the Milky Way. You lean on my shoulder, I breathe your breath, and the whole night seems bright because of your smile. The fog came, the village disappeared, the dark mountains appeared and disappeared, and the stars opened their naughty eyes and listened to your story in disbelief. The lights of fishing boats in the distance pull the morning light on the sparkling water, and you, in this way, sleep in my arms. Time has stopped and stopped at this moment, and you are no longer willing to fiddle with the clockwork to continue your life. I guess your old house must be desolate and deserted for a long time. Jianlan has withered, and no one has picked dates. In the old society, a rusty old lock locked a house. The water in front of the door disappeared without a trace, and the peach blossoms were still there, leaving no face. No more rippling water and white petals. There is only one place of melancholy and sadness, and the old days that can never be brought back. The vivid past has become a distant illusion, mourning for love is nowhere, and this life is only for nostalgia. There's nowhere to wake up from my dream tonight, Yang Liuan. The morning breeze is fading away.
I saw a damselfly flying in front of my eyes, pulling my eyes and gradually disappearing into the blue sky. . . . . .
Xie Guangming