1: Leaves in late autumn
Autumn, inadvertently, has gradually moved to the depths of the season. The yellow, red and brown leaves that have fallen all over the floor are dancing with small steps in the bleak autumn wind, flying in the gorgeous Yamanoue, flying on the quiet blue water and flying on the yellow grass road. Fallen leaves, looking back from time to time, are bare branches, once whispering, once lingering, once intimate, and now they are all rubbed into this intoxicating dance step. Then you swing, I dance lightly, I weep lightly, as if performing a plot on the blue bridge.
The sunset in late autumn is also painted with a touch of orange. The setting sun does not show off in summer, but hangs lazily on the horizon of curtain color, emitting a faint gentleness in a season. Clusters of reeds along the Wushui River, the purple reeds in early autumn have turned into small white flowers like snowflakes. On the sparkling river, the reflection of Xiao Yang's flowers swaying in the wind has become a cold autumn color. The evening breeze blows gently, and some broken small foreign flowers float to the old lanes of the ancient city. Among the swaying reeds, withered reed leaves lie wearily on the gradually yellowing reed stems, continuing the sweetness of you and me until they wither and give up on each other. When first frost gradually rises, the cold and snow are falling, and they are lingering and dry up to dust together. When the river turns green and misty rain begins, the tender buds of reeds will bloom on the boundless shore of the dancing water in spring.
There is a messy layer of Cinnamomum camphora leaves scattered on the bluestone board in the deep lane of Qianyang ancient city, which is a lonely season. The old face with leaves is engraved with the years of spring and summer. Cinnamomum camphora seeds scattered on the ground, like black pearls, seem to be full of the prosperity of the world and precipitate the heaviness of life. Who erased your tired long shadow? Who is it, playing the jumping notes gently? At this time, if you can go up to the wooden building by the river alone, lean against the old fence and soak in the sunset in late autumn, Xia Hong will be all over the sky outside the building, and several colorful clouds will fill the sky. Mountains, waters and ancient cities are all hidden in the red light. The autumn wind gradually rises, and several plane leaves fly in the twilight, breaking free and swaying several times, and finally falling gently into the world of mortals, just like the cycle of life, performing colorful movements in life.
The kapok tree by Acacia Lake still blooms late, but the pale yellow leaves are scattered on the yellow grass slope, stopping at the post station that dreams of returning to the earth, for the surprise of a touch of late autumn makeup. The falling leaves that come slowly are the thoughts of that flower, just like the Bible says, "When you come from dust, you will return to dust". I miss meeting again after such a long separation; The more you miss, the stronger your feelings will be. Deep love is a flame. In this silent autumn, the falling dead leaves seem to have turned into colorful butterfly dances. You are dancing, I am winding, white clouds are clothes, autumn wind is music, in a blue sky, quietly telling the quiet beauty and romance of autumn.
In the soft morning breeze, dew moistened the leaves of rosewood on the ground, and the red leaves fell to the ground, just like dazzling dancing in autumn water. On the inky slate beside Qingshuitang, a few red leaves are still so gorgeous and dazzling, and the magnificence of life is extremely publicized here. On the gurgling spring, there are some purplish leaves floating in the distant stream. For the sake of the fate of the ends of the earth, I am willing to wipe away tears, embrace autumn, and feel uneasy, just to burn the lush years that will eventually pass away.
In the green pine forest, the ground has been covered with a layer of brown pine leaves. As soon as the wind changes, the rain changes, the pine leaves fly silently, and suddenly it is autumn everywhere. The cycle of seasons and the flow of time are mostly completed in our sleep. In an all-consuming love, the grass is flourishing, but when I turn around, the flowers are withered, the grass is sad, the dead leaves have fallen, and cicadas are whispering. Although the pine leaves have fallen, they are also pregnant with new life. You see, under that layer of pine leaves, delicious Pleurotus ostreatus crept out of the ground and bloomed its short-lived mushroom flowers. Only under this yellow pine leaf can such delicious food be bred.
In late autumn, the blue sky is inlaid with several white clouds. At the entrance of the village with thin streams, several ancient maple trees have been dyed through by red leaves, and a thick layer of maple leaves is scattered on the hillside under the trees. The red maple on the tree is like a burning flame. Under the breeze, the falling maple leaves are gorgeous before the gorgeous turn of life. Maple leaves fluttered with the wind, whirled and swayed, and slowly fell to the ground quietly, yellowing the season and releasing the wonder of life.
Leaves in late autumn, like tiny moments in life, are broken and scattered unconsciously. I tried to catch it and put it down, but it had slipped away. It is beautiful to be indifferent and calm. The cycle of life is so wonderful that perhaps only the moment of returning to the embrace of the earth is the most magnificent face in life.
Chapter 2: Autumn leaves
In front of the hazy house of the autumn moon, I leaned against the window lattice and meditated on the fallen leaves swaying in the wind. In the cool autumn wind, your reluctant mood, your feeling of flying high, seems to be still so attached to life ... My inexplicable sadness floats with the rustling leaves: "The rustling of leaves has no reason, it makes rain and sad people make sounds together," Lu You's poems are so appropriate on this autumn night!
Fallen leaves, flowing in the autumn wind, attached feelings, helpless breathing, sadly fell on the wound of my sight. In the bleak moonlight, my eyes are pale and vacant; Make me sad, make me pity, make me angry! Then, Li Bai's poem suddenly appeared in front of my eyes: "Leaves fall from trees and fall with the wind. The guest has nothing to trust, and the sorrow is greater than the death of the heart. " At this moment, my feelings and sighs are exactly the same as those of the poet Li Bai.
I stared at the night sky in disappointment and looked up. The sky is vast, the stars are sparse, and the waning moon is dizzy. Under the silver-gray night, there is a vast chill; Only the fallen leaves are still swaying and dancing tenaciously in the wind ... is this your nostalgia for the years? Or do you want to live again?
A few fallen leaves came to my window, touched my face and kissed my lips, as if to tell me all your feelings? Suddenly, on this autumn night, my heart dances with your soul. ......
Fallen leaves, you once had your own youth and once had your own glory; Now, you have quietly passed away. Is this just the end of your life?
Fallen leaves, you go with the wind, and the floating posture is still so moving and free and easy. You know very well that your departure will make more green leaves sprout, and new life will multiply with your departure; So, you face it calmly and walk away calmly.
Chapter III: Fallen leaves
The leaves turned yellow and fell to the ground one by one. Pick up one of them and think of you at that time. But now it's blurred. Everything washed away by years looks so pale and powerless, and you can't be found at the end of the wind.
Open the title page of the book, and a faint fragrance comes to my face. Have clear notes and write down familiar memories. Read and write word by word carefully, and the familiar scenes in my mind flash over and over again. In that memory space, everything seems to tell each other that the years are quiet. "Knife-shaped eyebrows tiny cu, meditation not language, the ups and downs of the world in the heart one by one. Looking down at the distance with the corner of my eye, the vicissitudes of the years are vaguely presented in my mind. The face is freehand brushwork with wind and frost, and the lips are engraved with affection. That touch of cinnabar, I don't know how lingering it was in my last life. I fell in Qingchuan, near Sansheng Bridge, tossing and turning, crawling to wash away the lead. Those solid and heavy hands have long been covered with historical dust, with clear and natural lines, deep and attractive lines, which have been extended back to ancient national boundaries and the beginning of civilization. When touching, it is hot, warm, turning, rhythmic, breaking into a butterfly, falling in love unexpectedly from the palm of your hand to the end of your heart, which is true, profound and simple. So unconsciously to explore, to find. "Seven days, seven days, prosperous, you insist on the next intersection, cut off the lifeline of intertwined.
The words in the page are beating, often striking the still notes in my heart. Write thousands of sincere poems for you, create a different floating world for you, for you. . . The unconscious of the soul, an uncontrollable fate. That leaf is lying quietly, waiting to be picked up one day as an eternal memorial. At that moment, maybe you will follow the lines of her years, follow her footsteps and trace the origin of her life. Perhaps, this kind of existence is just to return a wish and a favor. That year, at the end of your life, you gently picked it up and took it to heart. By candlelight, you shed affectionate tears, so pure and transparent.
Looking for the afterlife, smelling your breath, deep in the shade, waiting for you to pass by and fall in your palm. At that time, it was clear that your lonely soul had nowhere to go. At that time, it was clear that your tired face had nowhere to live. In this way, the dead life can be reborn. You gently pat the dirt on your body, clean it and put it in your favorite book. I open it every day and every night and see a satisfied smile on your face, and then I know that happiness is so simple. "I happened to see a scene where tears suddenly appeared in my affectionate eyes. I have heard such a scene before, but when I saw it with my own eyes, I was at a loss. I watched, pained and pitied, so I had to shed tears silently, moistened my hair and finally blossomed in my heart.
What kind of emotion is this, or what kind of waves are washing sand, which has created such a character. "You are telling the truth, and the nib left a faint affection." I picked up my left hand and began to add new injuries to my palms and fingers. The original scar has not faded, no, it always exists between the thumb and forefinger. The lines on the nails are still so clear, but they have been burned by years. "No way, no way." I always want to outline all the outlines, carefully remember every detail and every scene, only to find that there is a little more white light in the lush hair. I want to erase the traces of this year, but I am afraid that my hand hurts and I am afraid that I will destroy the symbols left over during this period, so I have to let it witness and write quietly. "
In that dark day, you accompanied me all the way; In those confused years, there was your navigation all the way. Along the way, this day, my heart calmed down. At that time, the person I loved was by my side, and the person who loved me was by my side. At this time, I just want to meet you better and meet myself better.