The long river of history is full of turbulent waves, carrying thick loess and rushing eastward. Poetry is like a clear and gentle stream beside the raging river, reflecting light as crystal clear as diamonds. I quietly followed the water and pursued.
"In the past, when I left, the willows lingered; now when I come to think about it, the rain and snow are falling." The soldiers who left their hometown many years ago couldn't help but smile bitterly when they looked at their hometown that had changed beyond recognition. The delicate flowers and green willows turned into countless solitary snowflakes flying in the sky in a blink of an eye. Waves of biting cold wind rushed towards him, rushing into his body along his icy armor. He couldn't help but flinch and walked towards the familiar yet unfamiliar direction. "Mom——" He opened the long-lost door and shouted into the empty house. For a long time, the only response he received was a stiff echo. The footprints in the snow were ruthlessly buried again.
"It's hard to travel! It's hard to travel! There are many divergent roads, where are you now?" Looking at the fine wine and food on the table, at this time, he completely lost his appetite. Not willing to give in! Why can they have smooth sailing, but they run into obstacles everywhere? Why are they reused despite being inferior to themselves, and why are they not appreciated for their talents? "If you want to cross the Yellow River, which is blocked by ice, you will climb the Taihang Mountains covered with snow." Stop, stop! Let him go by the past! Everything in the past has already been settled, so why should we care so much. "There will be times when the wind and waves break, and the clouds and sails will hang straight to the sea." Singing while drinking wine, dancing his sword to the moon, layman Qinglian left a graceful footprint among the fallen flowers.
"Strangers, I also bless you." The sentimental Haizi suddenly became happy. Those wonderful poems are still there; the energetic sun is still there; Van Gogh’s sunflowers exuding infinite passion are still there, so how can we not feel happy? "May you have a bright future, may your lovers eventually get married, and may you be happy in this world." I hope you can get all the beautiful things I have and don't have. "I just want to face the sea and the spring flowers are blooming."
He was happy for this little happiness, smiling and leaving the last traces of his life in this spring flower place. In the days...
I followed the footsteps of poetry and walked eastward step by step. Sadness, joy, separation and union, every trace of footsteps tells me one beautiful and touching story after another. From the beautiful "Book of Songs" to the romantic Li Bai, from the arrogant Fan Zhongyan to the passionate Haizi. I am a listener, quietly listening to the brisk sound of water that is constantly merging and colliding in the poetry stream, accompanying the poet's joy, anger, sorrow, and joy, pursuing the footprints of poetry.