When autumn ends with fruitful joy, when the crops that have walked hand in hand with the land through the four seasons are aging day by day in the autumn wind, and when the fertile land is turned up layer by layer in the vibrato of plowshares, this scene makes me feel particularly desolate. Maybe I am a farmer and have a special feeling for the land. The ups and downs of the land always haunt me, so that I always want to express my love for the land in a way. It is a kind of love that keeps giving up. Every season, I will walk in the open field after the autumn harvest, thinking about what the land in Bandelli's Dawn should look like, and what dew and vitality should be in the morning song. However, in this crisp autumn season, the scene full of dead branches and leaves is particularly miserable. Walking on every piece of land with colorful leaves, I heard the groans after the land was harvested. It was a painful groan of being abandoned and forgotten, a painful groan of losing love and comfort, and a painful groan that will soon be covered by a long winter.
Land is great, but it is also generous and kind. Sow a weak seed, and every grain of sand in the land will be delivered to it like an umbilical cord, so that it can grow in the womb, be cared for, give it sunshine and water, and give it warmth and love. At this time, no matter how raging the seasonal storm on the ground, the seeds that dream of green dreams under the land will quietly take root and stand tall and straight.
The great thing about feeling the land is that I can see how the land is compromised from the residual soil at the roots.
On that day, the dry roots in the yard needed to be cleaned up. Small roots are particularly heavy when moving tangled roots. After careful observation, I found that the soil embedded between roots is still tightly surrounded by thick and thin roots in different postures, so that I have to chisel everything when I am free. In the process of digging, I saw that the soil that supported each other had dried up, but it guarded the persistence and belief of the roots, and the original intention had not changed. No matter how you tap it, it just drops some powder sporadically and remains firm in the crowded gap.
This is the power of land, and this is the greatness of land. Life depends on roots, and life depends on roots.
Land can appear before your eyes in different ways in different places. It can be square or round. Even if the rough skin is cut by the sharp edge of the plow share, it will still form a block and connect together. Even if it is twisted into horseshoe crabs, it will haunt you in piles. Even if they are burned into bricks, they support each other and hold up tall buildings.
Land is such a character, when you treat it well, it will nurture and care for your life; When you abuse it, it will make you infertile and even ruin your life.
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Goodwill and sincerity between people will also be more meaningful because of the land.
According to the elders, there used to be a landlord in our street. Although he is a landlord, people in the street love and admire him. Every family appreciates him and never allows young people to be rude to him. When I was young, I didn't understand the truth. When I grew up, I heard the old people say that the reason why I respect him so much is because he once saved a street.
In the war-torn era, his family owned more than 20 acres of land and was a well-deserved landlord at that time. Many families in this street depend on short-term jobs to make a living. There was a famine one year, and many families in the street went out to flee because they didn't have enough to eat. When the old landlord saw that every family in the village had been dismantled and destroyed, his kind heart became merciful. He opened the granary to the people in Zhou Ji Street. In order to repay this life-saving debt, people in the street are willing to go to his land for voluntary farming. At the autumn harvest that year, the villagers were even more surprised by the sudden move of the old landlord, that is, whoever planted the land would be temporarily owned by him. If the harvest is good, give him some food, if the harvest is not good, you will get nothing.
The old landlord, who is 80 years old, said that they all belong to the villagers. I can't watch the villagers' wealth decline.
During the Cultural Revolution, the old landlords were not spared, so they were naturally found out and criticized along the street. At the interrogation meeting, the rebels were allowed to incite, but all the families in our street kept their mouths shut and never listed the charges of the old landlord, so that they were accused of "having no deep feelings for the proletariat." Nevertheless, kind and honest villagers sneaked into the old landlord's house every night after their arrival to comfort him mentally. In this way, the old landlord lived under the protection of the villagers until 1979. That spring, the old landlord died, and people in the street held a grand funeral for him. Some people even specially called back their children who worked outside.
Old people say, don't forget the kindness of others, people should learn to repay kindness with kindness.
Although the classes are different, the land closely links the fate of people of two different classes. Although the old landlord is dead, his land-like mind will never be forgotten from generation to generation. At the moment, I can't help thinking of Luo Lizhong's oil painting Father. Although the affectionate face has gone through vicissitudes, the father's loving face still shines with the sunshine, releasing the warmth and true feelings for the children like the land, so that their children can have plenty of food and clothing and grow up healthily on this fertile soil. From that face, I seem to see my father hunched over, using a bridge-like backbone to transport his children from generation to generation to the beautiful home they are looking forward to. From this angular face carved by years, how does the father's broad mind shelter the children from the wind and rain, and how does the strong voice of life play and sing in his own life?
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A great man has two hearts, one is bleeding and the other is forgiving. Because I was born in the same place for generations, grew up in the same place, and will return to the same place in the future, I especially appreciate Ai Qing's poems, which often make me feel the depth after inner shock:
If I were a bird.
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the gentle dawn from the forest ...-and then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply. ...
Among the poets in China, Ai Qing is a poet who takes root in the earth and yearns for sunshine. The land and the sun are the backbones that support his life and spirit, and they are also the core images that run through all his poems. If the sun reflects the poet's pursuit and yearning for ideals and light, then the land reflects the poet's simplest, most loyal and deepest love for the mother earth, the motherland and the people. This song "I love this land" is the most sincere love song dedicated by the poet to the land.
Land is the object that poets will always be attached to, confide in, be loyal to and praise. All kinds of complicated emotions come together, and finally the poet has a strong desire to be the most loyal singer in this land, so this famous poem "I Love this Land" was born. Ai Qing became the most loyal singer of the land because he has deep feelings for the land. From the poet's sincere feelings for the land, I seem to see a poet's sincere gratitude for raising his own land.
What I admire more is an animal that lives on the earth like a poet. It is an earthworm, stretching tendons for the land day and night. This small animal without bones looks fragile, but it can survive on land for generations, which is admirable.
My mother once told me the story of earthworm. Mother said that earthworms used to have eyes because they lost their eyes in a bet with scorpions. So every autumn night, the earthworm foresees the coming of winter, which will make the scorpion look back sadly. Although that kind of voice is very weak, it is as bleak as the autumn wind on an autumn night. Earthworms often encounter accidents because they have no eyes on the ground, and they are often abused and laughed at by other animals. Since then, earthworms have sneaked into the ground, made a living from the soil, and used their meager strength to repay the cultivation of the land. When mother tells this story, she always looks for things on land. Mom said that as long as there is new mud made of earthworms, you can know whether the land is fertile or not.
Although this story is absurd, my respect for earthworms that can give life to the land is increasing day by day. It is admirable that a small life can survive in this land for generations.
In the land, earthworms feed on the soil, allowing the soil to circulate in the body before returning to the land, making the land loose and the land no longer hardened; The land is also alive because of the unremitting peristalsis of earthworms.
This is the poet's "Why do I often have tears in my eyes?" This is the poet's "deep love for this land ..."
I often wander in the land after harvest, feeling the broad mind that the land accommodates all rivers. The reason why our skin color is integrated with the land is because the land has nurtured us with its food; The reason why our life depends on the land is that the land contains our faults with its vastness and generosity. I sing for the soul of the land, and I am proud of the slash-and-burn land. In our nation fighting for the land, our skin color comes down in one continuous line, our roots are deeply rooted in this kind land, and our blood will surge with passion because of the clean water the land has given us. Then what reason do we have to fight for the ownership of land and the division of territory? In front of the land, we are so weak, what Tang Zong Song Zu, what Wu Zhou Zheng Wang, in the long river of history, perhaps they really once dominated, but after the glory, they returned to the land where they were raised. This is the land, this is the land where language is created without language, and this is the land where there is always demand but no demand. Maybe one day, when we really want to return to the land, the loving heart of the land can make us meditate in a deeper memory.
Whenever the land is plowed, the refreshing smell of the soil makes people feel more comfortable. Listen to the sound of sowing, and you will feel the kindness of the land from the hiss of the land like an old man; Standing on the flat land, a sense of sureness will come to mind.
Land is alive. When fruits abound and everything grows, you will feel fruits and leaves dancing on the land, and a kind life is taking care of us. \
Third, your choice.