Who can tell me the loneliness and affection of the first snow on the other side of the carpet in Zhang Xiaofeng 10 prose collection?
She once taught me that I often think of that mountain and that car.
Large family wine, green books, letters and love goods.
Drink pecks, dress shoes, and recall the past in spring.
Notes on flowers: Christmas rubbings after walking through the red carpet
Yin Da's mother's down jacket is a gorgeous piece of soil.
All kinds of sentient beings go all the way to Mei Fei.
Fu for the ancients
The magic season that makes people shine.
Back home, halo, rainy days.
Autumn, autumn, thin tides, small candlelight.
Go home. I like it. I have
Unable to add the character block of.
Meet me at the first festival.
On the moon, Que also described her feelings.
Contradiction (1) Contradiction (2) Contradiction (3)
It is because of youth that a good word stands out.
what are you going to do？ Look back at the wind and smoke in your beautiful watershed.
In the forest under your nose. Who dares?
The second chapter is the moment to thank.
Fortunately, Jade wants to know the color.
Story line teacher, is this okay? Primitive desire
Mistakes, rivers, flies, fighting, beauty and words.
It is admirable to rejoice and admire "joy and admiration".
Actor's lines
Zhang Xiaofeng's prose fragment "The First Snow"
Poetry, my child:
If the fragrance of flowers in May has its origin, and the starlight in December has its starting point, I know where you came from.
These days, pain and happiness are so sharp that I am surprised that the difference between them is so small. Whenever I suffer for you, I always feel that the cross is so light, so I suddenly understand my love for you. You brought fragrance to the garden in early spring.
In all mankind, I have the right to be the first person to love you. They must see you, get to know you, and then decide to love you, but I don't need it. Your smile soars in my dream, concrete and real. I love you and have nothing to boast about. In fact, no one can bear the love for children.
You're here, and I'm beginning to become a thinking person. I have never thought deeply about the meaning of life and respected the value of life. For the first time, I was moved by the sacredness and solemnity of life.
Because of you, I love all mankind, even those golden chickens, even those small trees that walk unsteadily, make me feel distressed.
I inevitably think of war and one of the most irresistible tragedies of mankind. Like fungi, our generation lives in the shadow of war, and our childhood was spent on crowded trains and bumpy ships. And you, what kind of times can I give you? We can't go back to the poetic19th century, and we can't hide in the mythical Alps. We are destined to live in this tragic era, tragic China.
Son, every time I think about it, I'm sorry. The stupidity and meanness of human beings have plunged them into a tragic fate. So, on this earth full of nuclear terror, what have we prepared for the newborn baby? Not a gold lock, not champagne, but a million tons of TNT nuclear energy per person. Son, when you look at the world with complete trust, can you see those cruel weapons hanging in your little cradle? And your parents' big bed?
I was born in such a world, and I may be wrong. God knows what kind of trip we have arranged for you.
But, son, we still hope you can come. We hope you learn to love human beings with us and suffer with them. Soon, you will learn to cry for all these tragedies-and how much our generation needs such tears and prayers.
Shishi, my child, with you, I began to be strong and brave. I can face the cold death without being afraid of its poison hook. I still feel that I am doing it in the face of the suffering of childbirth. For you, son, I will beat them. I have never loved life as much as I do now. You have taught me so many mature thoughts and noble sentiments, and I am grateful to you.
A few days ago, I suddenly remembered the sentence in the New Testament: "Although you didn't post him, you love him." I immediately understood how independent love is. When the tip of eucalyptus sweeps more north wind, when the peak begins to drop the first white of the first thunder, you come. Before your coral limbs start waving in this world, before your shining pupils shine in this city, you already have our complete love, and we will teach you how to be loved before you are a child. Shishi, we promise to give you a happy childhood.
Writing here, I vaguely recall those beautiful spring days in Jiangnan. We always crouched in the small window of the train, and the train walked around the mountains and rivers, and the days seemed to pass like that. I still remember the wild azaleas all over the mountains! The mountains and plains are full of sad sadness!
We are a generation that knows sadness too early.
However, poetry may not be without sadness in your time, but we will always give you a full childhood. There is no house on the roof where you live, but there are many loves, many books, many ideals and dreams. We will build you a rose bed in the story, and you will play and rest on the soft petals.
When you get to know your father Shishi, you will be surprised at your luck. He is upright and noble, and he is kind and kind. Slowly, you will also find out how much your parents love each other. After so many years, their love is still as fresh as the breeze in the forest.
Poetry, my child, don't think this is inevitable. Not every child has such luck. Not every parent in this world loves each other. How many children cry alone in the dark, and the meaning of life is denied before they are officially involved in life. Poetry, poetry, you won't understand the pain of disillusionment. This is the first tragedy of all tragedies. In fact, all human beings are killing each other, and history has not taught human beings to love each other. Poetry, you teach them to love each other, just like the poet said:
They are cruel, greedy and jealous, and their words are like hidden blades eager for blood.
Go, my child, stand in their unhappy hearts and let your gentle eyes fall on them, just like the gentle mist at dusk drowned the struggle during the day.
Let them see your face, my child, let them know the meaning of everything, let them love you, let them love each other.
Poetry, one day you will understand that God will not allow you to cling to the love you inherited. Poetry, love is a bud, and it must bloom. It must provide fragrance in painful demolition.
Poetry also teaches us to learn more and higher love. I remember a few days ago, an advertisement of a drug dealer shocked me. The advertisement said: "Children should not be weaker than others. The health of the next generation is related to our faces. If children grow healthier, more beautiful and happier than others, it will be much more glorious. " Poetry, the meanness of human nature makes me feel cold. Shishi, I love you. I promise you, my love for you will never be mixed with impure ingredients. You are you, and you will never be compared with others. You don't need to suffer to satisfy your parents' vanity. In our eyes, you are always outstanding. You can be poor, you can fail, you can even be poor. Poetry, if we are proud, we are proud of yourself, not for your health, beauty or intelligence. You are a human being, not a shrub we cultivated. We will never trim you into a certain shape to make others praise our gardening genius. You can grow up according to your inclination, and no matter what style you choose, we will like it-or learn to like it.
We will try our best to get to know you, we will bend down seriously to listen to your secret wishes of a child, and we will help you through your depressed adolescence with sympathy and understanding. When you are an adult, we are still willing to share your sorrow. There are always some sad and helpless things in life. If you feel lonely in the future, please remember your mother. Our lives were once linked, and I will try my best to make this link last forever. I repeat, Shishi, we will try our best to understand you and your time. We will believe you-God never gives bad children.
We'll pray for you, son. We don't know when those old and peaceful years will reappear. That kind of good day may never be seen again.
If this calm will never reappear, then poetry is irresistible and irreversible. I can only bless your heart and have inner peace in difficult times.
I often think, Shishi, you are not only our child, but also belong to the mountains and seas in May and the cloudless sky in Wan Li-and all this will always be the theme of human happiness.
You're going to grow up, son. Every time you tremble, love surges in my heart. You are a bud, hidden in the deepest part of my heart, just like music in a long flute.
A few days ago, someone told me a beautiful Japanese story. Speaking of every winter, when it snows, people sit in the yard, and Mu Ran silently stares at the soft white patches.
What a pious and touching sight it is! I thought of you then, Shishi. You are the first snow in our life, pure and noble, which deeply shocked me. Those awe and love for life often make me cry silently.
Poetry, give our land some beautiful white. Poetry, our first snow.
(There are many more, you can go to this website to see:: Dong Zi. /Wen Xue /zxf/content.htm
References:
: Dong Zi. /Wen Xue /zxf/content.htm
Zhang Xiaofeng's prose style critics praised him for his "pen is like the heat of the sun, the sincerity of frost and snow, his writing is like the fragrance of cold plum, and his words are like a wreath knocking on the ice". Zhang Xiaofeng's articles are clear and clever, ethereal and warm, with deep affection that can't be turned away, deep love that can't be lifted, endless life in the distance, and intangible death at hand. This is a woman's world. Exquisiteness, delicacy and elegance are mixed with faint regrets about short life and persistence in seeing through the world without losing confidence and enthusiasm. Yu Guangzhong once called his article "combining rigidity with softness" and was listed as "the third generation famous essayist".
One of the charms of the work is that it always smiles gently, always presents the relationship between people in good faith, and is sweet without losing organization. Secondly, he is good at getting close to the practical experience around him, from small to large, and is also good at sorting out the enlightenment and admonition of the natural creator of heaven and earth from chaos.
Looking for Zhang Xiaofeng's short prose "Spring Thoughts"
Spring must be like this: from the green hills, a handful of snow can no longer be held, and with a splash, a cold face becomes a painted face. A song is sung from the clouds to the foothills, from the foothills to the low and desolate villages, to the hedgerows, to the yellow webbed of a duckling, and to the soft and soluble spring mud.
So charming, so sensitive, but so muddy and endless. A thunder can make clouds cry all over the sky for no reason, and a cuckoo cry can make a city full of azaleas. When a gust of wind comes, every willow tree sings a white, vain, inexplicable and uninvited fly. Every fly is a semicolon of the willow tree. Anyway, spring is so unreasonable and illogical, but it can still make people calm.
Spring must be like this: the withered stems full of dark leaves and flowers cling to an old root, and the roof beams of thousands of families in the north are crushed by the wind and snow, gently supporting a small empty nest. Then, suddenly, one day, peach blossoms captured the water profiles of all the mountain villages. Willow has taken control of the royal ditch and the folk river head-spring is like a clear-cut Julian Waghann, and the group has been looking forward to prayer and beauty for a long time.
As for the name of spring, there must have been such a story: before the Book of Songs, before the Historical Records and before the characterization of Cang Xie, a lamb suddenly felt sweaty while eating grass, a child suddenly felt soaring while flying a kite, his legs suffering from wind pain suddenly felt comfortable, and Qian Qian's hands were placed on the banks and banks of the stream.
Birds can start measuring the sky again. Some are responsible for measuring the blue of the sky, some are responsible for measuring the transparency of the sky, and some are responsible for measuring the height and depth of the sky with those wings. Not all birds are excellent mathematicians. They chattered and counted, looked around, and finally dared not publish statistics.
As for all the flowers, they have been given to the butterfly to count. Give all the pistils to the bees for cataloging. All the trees were ruined by the wind. Leave the wind to the old wind chimes in front of the eaves to remember and inquire one by one.
Spring must be like this, or, somewhere, is it still like this? Through the smoky black forest, I want to visit the spring wandering in the distant years.
Zhang Xiaofeng, Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose, was born 194 1, one of the top ten essayists in Taiwan Province province. His works have been reprinted and translated into various languages. "The pen is like the heat of the sun, the chastity of frost and snow, the fragrance of cold plum, and the words are like knocking on the ice."
There is a flower that you can't see, but you believe it exists. There is a voice that you can't hear, but you know you understand.
Life is a contract that can be terminated at any time, but love can cross life and death at the most mellow time.
Zhang Xiaofeng
The first snow at the other end of the carpet was lonely and affectionate.
She once taught me that I often think of that mountain and that car.
Large family wine, green books, letters and love goods.
Drink pecks, dress shoes, and recall the past in spring.
Notes on flowers: Christmas rubbings after walking through the red carpet
Yin Da's mother's down jacket is a gorgeous piece of soil.
All kinds of sentient beings go all the way to Mei Fei.
Fu for the ancients
The magic season that makes people shine.
Back home, halo, rainy days.
Autumn, autumn, thin tides, small candlelight.
Go home. I like it. I have
Unable to add the character block of.
Meet me, meet me.
On the moon, Que also described her feelings.
Contradiction (1) Contradiction (2) Contradiction (3)
It is because of youth that a good word stands out.
what are you going to do？ Look back at the wind and smoke in your beautiful watershed.
In the forest under your nose. Who dares?
The second chapter is the moment to thank.
Fortunately, Jade wants to know the color.
Story line teacher, is this okay? Primitive desire
Mistakes, rivers, flies, fighting, beauty and words.
It is admirable to rejoice and admire "joy and admiration".
Actor's lines
:havebook。 /book/xianjdaiwenxue/xd/gt/SW/z/zhangxf/online reading
Zhang Xiaofeng's I am tells us what I am Zhang Xiaofeng.
I remember the third grade of primary school. I accidentally got sick and couldn't go to school. So I sat on the bed with my arms folded, looking out the window at the lonely green hills and the late spring, and I felt a great sadness that I can't forget so far. At that time, because I was small, I couldn't tell the reason myself, but I remembered the pain.
Why does it hurt? Now I understand, just because you know, your good friends are here and you are not, so you are wondering, are they chasing each other on the playground at the moment? Are they scolded in the classroom? What the hell are they doing? For better or worse, I want to be with them! It's good to be scolded and beaten together!
So, I began to like roll call. In the morning, everyone sat down, their faces were not dirty, and their little hands were not sweating. The teacher said:
" XXX "
"Yes!"
Seriously and simply, as if not answering the teacher, but answering the universe, talking about heaven and earth, talking about history, saying that there is a child "here."
Answering the word "in" will always be full of happiness for me.
Then, when I grow up, I don't need a name, but I am addicted to traveling. Every time I go to a scenic spot, I always want to raise my hand, like the child who is always curious, I open my eyes and answer:
"I am."
"I am here" and "so-and-so is here to visit" are different. The latter is arrogant, and it is still a child who goes to school in the morning and happily answers the old man's questions.
In fact, between people, or for affection, friendship or love, what kind of close friendship can't be established on the premise that I am with you? Isn't love all about being together? Even if it is a god, it is nothing more than the characteristics of "ancient is present, eternal" and "ubiquitous". As a person, I feel another kind of value for my "limitation that can only appear in this time and space", as if I were a small twisted shape in a jigsaw puzzle, which is meaningless at first sight, but even if it is embedded in the right time and space, it is an indispensable piece. The existence of the gods is boundless, boundless, with no beginning and end, and I am conscious and conscious in this mountain and water at the moment.
One year, my husband and I took a group of young people to perform in America and Europe. I insist on using Cui Hao's Long Gan Qu as the opening song. In one strange city after another, the blue silk shook out on the stage, and the Tang Dynasty Yuefu was leisurely remitted.
Where is your home, near here, near the fishing pond? .
Let's catch our boat together and see if we belong to the same town. ..
In the smoke, because of the wrong shoulder, because you are in the breeze and I am in the bright moon, because we are all on this earth, and the earth is too empty, so we can't help but stop the boat and ask each other about their native place, where we were born and buried in the past, and where overseas China people belong that summer!
The Old Testament recorded a story three thousand years ago. At that time, Eli, the old prophet, was groggy and helpless because of his old age, while Samuel, the little prophet, was still a child, walking around the empty temple in his robe. However, things happened, and one night he heard a gentle voice calling:
Samuel. '
Although he is sleepy, he is an alert child. He jumped up and ran to the old man Eli:
"You called me, I'm coming!"
"I didn't call you," said aging Eli. "Go to sleep!"
When the child lay down, he heard the same call again:
Samuel. '
"I'm here. Did you call me? " He went to see Eli again.
"No, I didn't call you. Go to sleep. "
The third time, he heard the call. The child was really confused, but he ran to Eli as soon as possible.
Old Eli was suddenly surprised. It turns out that the child has grown up. It turns out that he is not a child. He heard something wrong in his dream. No, he heard the first sacred voice, and he faced the sacred call. Although he is just a fragile child, although he doesn't even understand the meaning of "the clock of heaven", after all, the old days have passed, and young heroes will be carried by heaven to fan the flames in all directions.
"Little Samuel, go home! There are some things you didn't understand before. If you hear that voice again, you can say,' God! Please say, I'm here. "
Samuel really heard the sound for the fourth time. The night sky was flashing, and the colonnade stood like history. The sound came from the wind, the sound came from the starlight, and the sound came from the tide calling a child in his heart. From then on, Samuel was an outstanding prophet until his death, because many years ago, when he was a child, he agreed to this call and said, "I am here."
Of course, I am not a prophet. I never want to be a "savior", but I like to be an "emergency standby" person who can say "I am here, I am here?"
I have never drunk so much in my life. It's about a bottle of beer. It was the night of Dragon Boat Festival, on a remote island in Penghu. In memory of Qu Yuan, the fisherman didn't go out to sea that day, and the headmaster of the primary school accompanied us to have dinner with friends from the parents' meeting. It's hard to say "no" to the toaster with your neck up. The way they drink is very different from the college students I met before. After a few drinks, their faces suddenly turned red. It turns out that wine is so powerful. At first, those broad, dark faces unconsciously felt condescending to Taiwanese and scholars, but after drinking, everyone was anxious to say how hard it was to live without fresh water, how bad the fresh water pipeline was, and would rather lose everything than take a boat to other islands to transport fresh water every day. ...
And the fresh water they talk about is nothing but salty and unpalatable water for the people in northern Taiwan-but it is an unreachable dream for them.
We just wanted to donate books and build a reading room for the children. I didn't expect them to shout for water with red faces and thick necks! This island has a nice name, called Bird Island, and its rock shore is made of beautiful black shiny basalt. When the waves are big, water drops will jump over the classroom and fall straight on the playground. There are precious lilac fish in the clear Ranbo, but at the moment, there are crispy sea urchins and delicious eels on the table ... However, there is no fresh water on such an island.
What can I do for them? When we drink together at night, we may not be able to do anything, but at least I am here, listening and thinking about what I can do. ...
Reading is also a kind of "existence".
One year when I went to the library, I turned over a book "Notes of Spring" in class, which was a collection of works by Mr. Yu Yue, and the cover was covered with red silk. When I opened the back cover, I found that no one had borrowed it. It's really "ancient, saints get carried away"! "Mind move, then borrow the book home. Books are there, spring is there, but readers are also needed! My reading career is like some people playing "disc fairy", as if facing the author's spirit. For me, Li is on call. At the moment of mourning, I will say, "Here I am, come and read me the song" Short Life "! Read' I don't know if the sky is high and the land is thick. I only see Leng Yue and warm weather, and I will blow up my life. "When I read Wei's Joke Order, I will read it gently:" Huma Huma, put it far away at the foot of the mountain. It glided on the sand and snow, whining alone. It stopped to look at the east, looked at it and found itself lost. Lost and lost, the grass is growing. "On the one hand, I think I am the crazy horse from the Tang Dynasty. No, it may not be a horse, but just a * * *, fascinated by beauty and shocked by the vast yellow sand and the carmine sunset, so I am in a myriad of mood.
When reading a book, there are always many figures in the book, including me, and I have been there.
In Genesis of the Old Testament, the fallen Adam hid in the Garden of Eden, which was hit by a cool breeze. God said:
Adam, where are you?
He didn't answer.
If it were me, I would come out and say:
"God, I am here, I am here, please look at me, I am here. Not better than mortals, nor worse than mortals. I have my adversity and peace, as well as my rebellion and cruelty. I am in my infinite dream of pursuing truth and beauty, and also in my fragile humanity. God, look down on me, I am here. "
"I'm here" means I participated, in the big classroom of life.
A few years ago, I said a word in the mountains. Let me say it again, as the last link:
"The tree is. The mountain is here. The earth is here. Time is up. I am here. What kind of better world do you want? "
"I am!" Just to prove my existence. In this world, in this city, in everyone's heart, prove your value. This is a kind of confidence, a kind of firmness.
I want to buy a collection of Zhang Xiaofeng's essays. Please tell me the title if you know it. I have a copy of Zhang Xiaofeng's Prose, which was published by Zhejiang Literature and Art Publishing House. First published in June, 1997,1second printed in October, 14 yuan.
What is Zhang Xiaofeng's prose? 1, carpet 2 ends, the first snow.
Loneliness and affection. She taught me.
I often think of that mountain. 6. That car.
7, big family wine 8, green letter
9. Love articles 10, and drink articles.
1 1, clothing, shoes and hats 12, Huaichun
13, Flower Notes 14, after walking down the red carpet.
15, Yin Da Christmas rubbings 16
17, mom's down jacket 18, what a gorgeous piece of soil!
19, all kinds of sentient beings 20, Mei Fei
2 1, all the way to 22, feelings
23, worry about the ancients 24, life fu
25, eye-catching 26, some people
27, Magic Season 28, Go Home
29. Halo 30. Books on rainy days
3 1, Qiu Qiu 32, thin tidal sound
33. small candlelight 34. go home
35, I like 36, I have
37, chanting articles 38, people who can't add
39, 40, satisfied
4 1, I met at 42 (article reading network: sendfon. /)
43, month, que also 44, feelings
45, description 46, contradiction (a)
47. Contradictions (2) 48. Contradictions (3)
49. Just because you are young. 50. Good words
5 1, shocking 52, what are you going to do?
53, from your beautiful watershed 54, looking back at the wind and smoke
55. The road is right under your nose. 56. Miscellaneous thoughts in the forest
57. Who dares? 58. Four kinds of eyes
59, the second chapter of emotion 60, the moment to thank.
6 1, fortunately 62, Yu Xiang
63, color knowledge 64, story line
65. Teacher, is this all right? 66. Initial heart
67. Error 68. He feiji
69. Zhang Mei's words 70. "Joy and admiration" deserve joy and admiration.
7 1, retrace 72, find lotus in the fire.
73.line
Zhang Xiaofeng is a famous prose writer in Taiwan Province Province, China. The main papers are:
Going to the mountain, the end of the carpet, the magical season, trees, I like it, a bucket of gold, I own, homesick stones, the first snow, and the first poem.
For more details, please refer to the following encyclopedia links.