In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The glory of civil servants lies in officials, not in literature. They are literati.
On the other hand, it is also the dissatisfaction in officialdom. But things are strange. When the Emei wave belt has fallen into the mud,
A poem that is occasionally scribbled with a bamboo pen can engrave mountains and rivers, carve people's hearts and never ramble.
I once had the opportunity to look up at Bai Di City on a river boat at dusk and climb the Yellow Crane Tower in a thick autumn frost.
I touched Hanshan Temple on a winter night. By my side, people are crowded, and almost most people's hearts are back.
There are some poems that need no quotation. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. These poems can be used in childhood.
Recite. The children's imagination is sincere and realistic. Therefore, these cities, these buildings and these temples have long been in my heart.
Ok, build it. When they are old and just realize that their feet are strong enough, they will also bear a sum of money for themselves.
Heavily in debt, eager to visit the poetry world. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable things.
Reason. Sometimes, this longing is like looking for the lost hometown and visiting the lost relatives.
The magic of literati can turn such a small corner of the world into a hometown in everyone's heart. They will fade.
What spell is hidden in the blue of color?
Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before leaving, I stayed in the county town.
The old man inquired about it and got the answer: "The road is long and there is nothing to see, but some literati have worked hard to find it."
The old man looked up at the sky and said, "It will snow for a while. Don't suffer this. " I bowed to him,
Turn around and get into the snow.
Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but endless white, not even a wrinkle.
I can't find it when traveling in other places. You always have to find a goal for yourself in each paragraph, stare at a tree and rush there, but.
Then stare at a stone and rush there. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even if it is dry.
Leaves, a black spot. So, I have to look up at the sky. I have never seen such a complete day, and I have never.
Swallowed saliva, the edges are quite scattered, and the soil is covered tightly. There is a place where genius is called heaven.
On such a day, the earth is called the earth. Walking alone in such a world, the dwarf becomes a giant. such
Walking alone in the world, the giant becomes a dwarf.
As a result, it cleared up, the wind stopped and the sun cleared up. I didn't expect the snow in the desert to melt so fast, just for an instant, slowly.
There are sand spots on the floor, but there are no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated on the horizon, not moving, but deepening and wondering.
It was a long time before I found out that it was a ridge that had just melted snow.
The bumps on the ground have become shocking expositions, and there is only one understanding: they are graves of distant years.
many
It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These graves are eroded by ice and snow,
Overwhelmed by age, emaciated and depressed, obviously no one has offered sacrifices to sweep it. Why are there so many, and they are arranged?
So dense? There can only be one understanding: this is an ancient battlefield.
I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is exactly what
The wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The white hair of loving mothers in the Central Plains and Jiangnan
Looking at the boudoir in spring, Hunan cries at night. Farewell in my hometown of Liu Yin, glare of the general with wide eyes, hunting in the north wind.
The flag is flying. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that when the dead die, they all have faces.
On the north side of the enemy line; I believe they really want to come back at the last minute and bet on the familiar land.
Eyes. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.
I wonder if this starry sand pile has been exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned over these documents page by page.
However, in this way, this land has also been buried layer by layer. Twenty-five histories are written in this wasteland.
The pages of the book are still quite brilliant, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties and has long been responsible for defense.
The mission of China territory. So these sand piles are more comfortable to stand on, and these pages can rattle.
Just like the dry, cold and monotonous land, the historical proposition of the northwest frontier is relatively simple. In the Central Plains.
Not the same, there is no way for mountains and rivers to be suspicious, and there is another village. The maze of years will make the clearest mind swell up and faint.
Our stereo is always so mysterious and rude. There, there is nothing like this careless sand pile, but everything.
Stuck in the beautiful scenery, countless ghosts who died for no reason can only dive into the depths of the earth in grief and regret. Unlike here,
Can reveal a period of air-dried history, let me touch it in a hurry with the pace of the 20 th century.
There are shadows in the distance. In a hurry, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climb the hill,
I looked up and saw an abandoned mound on the hill not far away. I am intuitively convinced that this is a sunshine pass.
More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where is the important pass, where the military forces are stationed, no
Can you do without these? Turn a few corners, then go straight up a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, and there is one nearby.
A tablet is engraved with the words "Yangguan Ancient Site".
This is a commanding height overlooking the four fields. The northwest wind thundered in Wan Li and came straight, stumbling for a few steps before stopping.
Live. My feet stopped, but I clearly heard the chattering of my teeth. My nose must be red with cold soon. scold
A hot breath reached the palm of your hand, covered your ears, and jumped a few times before settling down to open your eyes. The snow here hasn't melted yet. When?
But it won't melt. The so-called ancient ruins, there is no trace, only the nearby beacon tower is still there, which is now.
The mound seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed, and you can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds fluttering.
Come out shivering in the cold wind after 1000 years. At present, it is a mountain in the northwest, all covered with snow, layered and straight.
Sky. Anyone standing here will feel that he is standing on the rocks by the sea, and those mountains are all over.
This is a cold ocean and frozen waves.
Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For this kind of sunshine, his pen is still not sharp or scary.
Color, but just lingering quietly wrote: "I advise you to drink a glass of wine, there is no reason to go out to the West." He glanced at it.
The willow outside the Acropolis Guest House is green. I looked at my friend's packed bag and raised the hip flask with a smile. reappear
Have a drink, and you won't find any old friends who can talk like this outside the sun. This cup of wine, friends must.
Never leave, drink it off.
This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their eyes are far away,
They live in a wide range. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, on Li Bai,
Gao Shi and Cen Can were there, glowing with more heroic brilliance. Among the ancient statues of the North and South, the statues of the Tang people are clear at a glance.
I recognize it. My body is so fit, my eyes are so calm and my eyes are so confident. Seeing Mona Lisa's smile in Europe,
You can immediately feel that this natural confidence belongs only to those who really wake up from the nightmare of the Middle Ages and are interested in the future.
Pretty sure, artist. The smile in the statue of the Tang Dynasty will only be more calm and serene. In Europe, these arts
For a long time, artists have been making a fuss and stubbornly trying to convey a smile to the soul of history. Anyone can count.
Count the years after the Tang Dynasty. However, in the Tang Dynasty, it did not belong to the artist's confidence.
Lasting for a long time The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad.
Wang Wei's poems and paintings are excellent, and the boundaries between poems and paintings repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing are acceptable to him.
Go in and out with your feet. However, the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists, allowing them.
As a humble servant, I devoted myself to creating some entertainment. The old man in history stood in awe and turned away, trembling all over.
Di Wei re-entered the pedigree of Three Emperors and Five Emperors. Here, there is no need for art to make a big scene, nor for beauty.
Too deep a sustenance.
As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. Articles on the West Going Out of Yangguan
There are still some people, but most of them have become officials and ministers.
Even mounds and Shicheng can't stand so many sighs, and the sun falls in one place again.
In the spiritual realm of the country. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland. Behind him, sand graves are like tides, and in front of him, cold peaks are like waves.
No one can imagine that here, 1000 years ago, the grandeur of life and the vastness of artistic feelings were verified.
There should be several voices of Hu Jia and Qiangdi here. The timbre is extremely beautiful, harmonious with nature and fascinating. Unfortunately, they
Later, it became a sad cry in the hearts of soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind.
Medium.
Go home, it's getting late. I'm afraid it will snow again.
□ Selected from Cultural Journey Knowledge Publishing House Shanghai 1992.
snow
Beautiful snowflakes are flying. I haven't seen you for three years.
Last year in Fujian, it seemed a little later than now, and I also saw snow. But that's snow on the top of the mountain in the distance, not flying snowflakes. On the plain, it only occasionally sprinkles a few drops with the rain and never falls to the ground. Its color is gray, not white; Its weight is like raindrops, and it can't fly. As soon as it landed, it immediately melted into water, jumping or sighing without trace, just like when it snowed in Jiangsu and Zhejiang. This kind of snow, the old Fujian people I met for the first time in 40 years, can certainly feel special significance and talk about it with relish, but in my opinion, it is always boring. It snows in Fujian, but I don't think so.
I like the flying snowflakes in Shanghai. It is "snow-white" white, as beautiful as a flower. It seems to be lighter than air, not falling from the air, but being rolled up from the ground by the air. However, it is like a living creature, like a group of gnats (ruì) at dusk in summer, like bees in the honey-picking period in spring. It is busy flying, up or down, fast or slow, or sticking to people, or squeezing into the cracks, and seems to have its own will and purpose. It is silent. But when it flies, we seem to hear the cries and footsteps of millions of people, the rough sea, the roar of the forest, and sometimes it seems to hear the whispers of children, the quiet evening prayers in the chapel, the cheerful birds singing in the garden ... It brings gloom and cold. But in its flying posture, we saw a charitable mother, a lively child, smiling flowers, warm sun, silent sunset ... it didn't breathe. But when it jumped on our faces, we seemed to smell the fresh air in the wilderness, the elegant orchids in the valley, the rich roses in the garden, and the faint jasmine ... During the day, it made thousands of beautiful gestures; At night, it gives off silver light, shines on our pedestrians, and draws all kinds of flowers and trees on our glass windows, oblique, straight, curved and upside down. And the river, the clouds in the sky …
"Notes on Mountain Residence" sleeps soundly in the cold wind
There was a funny little thing during the Cultural Revolution that kept shaking in my memory.
At that time, the school was run by the rebels, with militarized management, and all teachers and students exercised every morning. In fact, the school was closed at that time, and nothing happened after the exercise. Everyone broke up. Therefore, this exercise is the only chance for the rebels to experience the prestige of being in power.
The teachers were frightened and had to go; Like us, who fought against the rebels, we are now doing nothing, and there are a lot of troublesome students at home who have to go; Only a few students who call themselves "bard" can't insist on doing exercises. Although there is a long-awaited big horn in the high room, they still sleep with their heads covered. This hurt the rebels' face, so the meeting decided to carry these people to the playground with their beds tomorrow morning.
The next day, as expected, it was finished. On the playground in the early winter morning, the screaming crowd labored to carry out some beds with veils. The rebels burst into laughter, and the teachers and students who were doing exercises couldn't help laughing. However, the next thing is troublesome. Are these "minstrels" forced to get up and get dressed in public? If they do this, they will be too ostentatious, just like the master. So the rebel leader ordered: "Let them lie like this!" But what's public about sleeping with your head covered? We look at these beds while doing exercises. There is cold air here and warm beds there. It's really enviable. The rebel leader seems to think that the situation is wrong, so he has to give another order: "End of public display, back!" " "Those warm quilts were happily carried back. Later, according to the complaints of the students who were carried in and out, at least two people did not wake up from beginning to end.
From this past, I think of many reasons.
Showing the public is just the attacker's unilateral idea. If the public does not feel this way, it is probably a kind of enjoyment. There are two kinds of punishments in the world: direct injury and reputation humiliation. For the former, there is nothing to do, while for the latter, land is really a relative concept.
A person needs to rely on many complicated conditions to realize the humiliation of another person's reputation. When these conditions are not completely controlled, it is difficult to really achieve the goal.
This is why many people who are often besieged are not discredited, and those critical experts have worked hard for half their lives, but they have not won any good reputation for themselves.
Let them stand in the cold wind and be impassioned. We have our own warm bed and are very happy to sleep soundly. It's hard to take it with you, bring it in and out.
Read Wu Tong in Yu Qiu in your spare time.
The phoenix tree is in front of the building where we live, between the garden and the grass, at the corner of the winding path, watching us all day and all night.
It is much bigger than other trees, thick enough to fold, like a "gentleman", reaching into the air; Like a reserved girl, long hair, shawls and other lush leaves cover her face and even her whole body. I guess, at the beginning, there must be many saplings growing side by side with it, and later, perhaps because of the needs of environmental planning, they were cut down; Perhaps it is their own good quality and tenacious persistence. It leisurely walks through the storms of the years and becomes tall. Reading trees in my spare time has become a part of my life.
One day, my mother wrote from the north: the cold wave is coming, pay attention to keep warm and keep out the cold. In the evening, I added a quilt. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, there was a whistling wind and rain banging on the window lattice. I woke up from a deep sleep and heard the cold raindrops falling like primitive percussion. So I didn't sleep, thinking about home letters. Think of my mother's genealogy and my grandfather's ups and downs. Grandpa is a famous local educator. He devoted his life to education in Sang Zi and gave up several opportunities for external employment. However, in those unprecedented years, he didn't want to succumb to inhuman torture. On a cold rainy night, he swallowed his anger and committed suicide. I didn't see his old man's house, but I read a black-framed face from my uncle's house. I dare not say how skilled the painter is, but I firmly believe that those eyes are vivid. Every time I stand in front of it, there is always a feeling that spreads to me and silently collides with my heart.
Imagine, with the wind and rain, in order not to be sleepy, I put on my clothes alone, facing the window. The night is like ink, and in an instant I am also integrated into this thick night. Surprised to find a few cold stars blinking their sleepy eyes on the horizon! In the past, this was an illusion. There is no rain at all, only wind, cruel and abusive north wind. At this time, what makes me "sad" most is the nearby phoenix tree. I can only vaguely see its dark blue outline, bearing the desolation of the horizon. A gust of wind blows, which is the call sign of leaves and branches around each other, sometimes like Russian folk songs, and sometimes like poetry as if nothing had happened. Somehow, my grandfather's portrait suddenly caught my eye, and it seemed to have an unspeakable fit with this silent phoenix tree. Wenda, who doesn't want to be a giant arm, has the magnanimity to protect one side.
Woke up the next day, the sun was full of windows, but the sun was shining high.
I miss the yellow leaves of that tree. Pushing open the window lattice, the tree I saw turned out to be a Oracle Bone Inscriptions. There were no leaves that covered the sun yesterday, and the rest were quite dry trees. My heart seems to have been put on a heavy piece of ice by someone, and I can no longer be a bird and fly to that tree. The night wind has withered the life of the tree! The wind doesn't care about you. What falls will eventually fall, and there is no need to stay. You still have a sense of pride against the whole winter before spring comes!
So, I understand the loneliness of the phoenix tree, not lamenting the indifference of the passing of youth, not lamenting the loneliness in the sea of people, but a kind of Zen, a kind of mystery of quietness, adapting to nature and counteracting nature, understanding nature and confusion, letting the wind and rain erode, the four seasons cycle, the sun and the moon are black, flowers bloom and fall, how calm and indifferent generosity! I can't help feeling that my grandfather died young, and I am sad that he gave in to fate and people of that era.
It was the familiar rustling of leaves, beating the eardrum affectionately. Looking down, a girl in red is skipping along a path covered with yellow leaves. It seems that every leaf is accompanying her youthful footsteps. At the moment, I threw myself into a ray of fluffy sunshine on my windowsill and spilled it on a roll of old books that I didn't close last night before I filed the case.
Finally found some short articles. See if you can use them. O ()) O alas. . .