The most beautiful composition of ancient poetry in my heart

"a hundred mountains and no bird, a thousand paths without a footprint, a little boat, a bamboo cloak, an old man fishing in the cold river-snow ..." This is a catchy poem when I was in primary school. Whenever I can't help reciting it, the endless and white snow appears in front of my eyes. All the birds have flown away, but none of them can be seen. On all the roads, there are no traces of pedestrians. Only the old man is wearing Dai Li. I'm not afraid of the attack of ice and snow. I vaguely feel that my glasses are covered with a layer of fog. Looking into the distance, the old man is fishing silently with a fishing rod ...

At this moment, I suddenly walked into an ancient poem. Snow! That mountain! That water! And the old man who is not afraid of the cold! What a beautiful snow scene in Jiangxiang! But what I admire most is the spirit of the old man. In the poem, I stand on the shore and look at the old man in the distance. The boat is broken and quiet on the river ... The old man doesn't understand anything. The coir has already been stained with white snowflakes, and the hat is also white. I slowly walked into him. He is not far from me. I clearly saw that his years left wrinkles, one by one, and his beard was short. That persistent, independent and eclectic spirit. I guess the old man is such a person ...

I slowly walked out of my fantasy, only to find that I had been dreaming all the time, and the snow had stopped, and the wind was quiet. It was time for the old man to go home.