The long river of history, with thick loess, runs eastward. Poetry, like a clear and gentle stream along the turbulent river, reflects the diamond-like crystal light. I quietly, with the current, pursue.
"I used to go to, willow, a; Today I think it's raining. " Soldiers who left their homes many years ago could not help smiling at their unrecognizable hometown. Delicate flowers and green willows suddenly turned into countless lonely snowflakes flying all over the sky. A biting cold wind came and rushed into his body along his cold armor. He can't help but flinch and walk in a familiar and unfamiliar direction. "Mom," he opened the long-lost door and shouted into the empty room. For a long time, the only thing that responded to him was the already stiff echo. Footprints in the snow were ruthlessly buried.
"It's hard to go! The journey is very hard and there are many roads. Is it safe now? " Looking at the wine and food on the table, at this point, he completely lost his appetite. Not reconciled! Why can they be smooth sailing, but they hit a wall everywhere; Why are they not as good as themselves, but they are reused and their talents are not appreciated! I want to cross the Yellow River, but ice will block the ferry and Taihang Mountain will be covered with snow! Let bygones be bygones, then everything in the past has become a foregone conclusion, so why care so much? "One day, I'm going to ride the wind and waves and fly straight to Yun Fan to cross the deep sea" is the song of wine and the sword of the moon. Violet laity left a beautiful footprint among the fallen flowers.
"Stranger, I wish you the same." The sentimental Haizi suddenly became happy. Those wonderful poems are still there; The vibrant sun is still there; Van Gogh's passionate sunflower is still there. Why not? "May your future be bright, may all lovers in the world be well, and may you be happy in this life." I hope you can get all the good things I have but I don't. "I just want to face the sea and spring blossoms." He was happy for this little happiness, and left the last trace of his life with a smile on this spring day?
I followed the footsteps of the poem and walked eastward step by step. Sorrow and joy, each string of footprints is telling me one beautiful and moving story after another. From the beautiful Book of Songs to the romantic Li Bai, from the arrogant Fan Zhongyan to the enthusiastic Haizi. I am a listener, quietly listening to the brisk sound of water when the stream of poetry is constantly merging and colliding, accompanied by the poet's feelings, pursuits and the footprints of poetry.