Yang Xianping:
The sky around me is a big secret. It hangs above my head, with changing colors. Occasionally, the planes flying by are loud, which seems to plow the sky. I'm here-on the edge of Badain Jaran Desert, looking north to Inner Mongolia, behind the bigger yellow sand. A little green Populus euphratica and a little weak river water in Ejina Banner are just a tear that God occasionally drops. Behind it, too: hard yellow sand, creeping yellow sand and white grass on Gobi shrink and grow in the four seasons. More storms are coming from the north, with smoke, sand, cold and heat-among them, I think there is more barren smell, as well as the smell of animals and people.
Qilian, which faces south, can't be seen most of the time. The flatness of Gobi is also a kind of hiding and shielding. How can such a high mountain be covered by the creeping Gobi? Black hawks collected from Qilian are often seen in Gobi. They gather somewhere, appear and disappear in the air. Through the sparse poplar leaves and branches, I see and think of some vigorous and bold words, poetry, the noblest soul. Some time in a certain year, I went to Qilian Mountain, and saw the heavy snow, grass, pine trees and golden plums in summer, and a large number of yaks, horses and sheep. The escaped marmot was like a rolling black ball on the wet grass, and the girl riding a horse reminded me of the most beautiful love and the simplest survival. It also reminds me of the difficulty and pain of walking in grass, rocks, cow dung and heavy snow, and dreams of meeting the legendary nine-color deer, snow leopard and antelope hanging upside down.
then I come back, facing the dry desert Gobi. I often feel thirsty and drink a lot of water. I wake up in the middle of the night, and the heat of my body makes me feel like a desert. Sitting in the room on the second or third floor, I saw more abandoned buildings around the oasis-broken, lonely and sad. It suddenly occurred to me that after more teenagers, will my present position, house and facilities also become ruins? In the black city-Halahaote-the former site of Xixia people and Mongolian ancients, which is more than 2 miles away from the oasis, the walls and rammed earth plates in the wind are full of holes, some of which are definitely caused by swords and guns, but more of them are the wind, which continuously blows at what people think is hard in their eyes in silence. I thought of the ancestors who used to live there-I didn't feel anything at that time, but I thought of them again-and suddenly something hit me. I felt that it was heavy, sharp, direct and uncompromising-and I would become an ancestor, and in the eyes of later people, our traces were also traces of our ancestors.
This often makes me feel sad. In summer, Shoushuijinguan (the location of the Han Dynasty camp), which passes by several times a week, shakes like a yellow flag in the scorching desert air billow. The broken and monotonous handwriting and the dragon flag have faded to such a state. I can't help but think of Huo Qubing, Wei Qing and Li Guang, and the cruel Khan Wang and horse thief who came and went without a trace with a machete. Sometimes, I especially want to sit there. On the high platform and the man-made buildings protruding from the Gobi, I feel the sky above it, the loess under it and the continuous passing wind. I even want to talk, hug and kiss with a person, a beloved woman, standing on the high ruins, let the wind circulate and let the sky see. Such a scene, I think, is the most vivid in the desert-alive and dead, vivid and dead, and ours and theirs complement each other.
No one thinks like me. Many people from other places came by plane or train. When they saw it, they asked: What is that? I said it was the site of Han Dynasty, Xixia and Mongolia. They just oh, and then look away. Most of the time, I think, today's cars are definitely not as good as ancient horses. A person riding a horse that is good at running, or a young girl, gallops at once. That kind of beauty is definitely not something that luxury cars such as Ferrari and Mercedes-Benz can replace. More importantly, no matter how many vehicles and passengers there are, the direction is the same-towards the ruins, the ruins of the body and the ruins of the building are the ruins of people and the earth.
In the desert in the north of Ejina Banner, there are some sea urchins, dried sea urchins and reeds, and the land is moist. Many migrated Han people live there and grow watermelons, yellow honey and white melons. Once I met a couple from Sichuan with two children, and their job for one year was to grow melons. Their children seem to be dug out of the dust, covered in soil, crusted and infiltrated into the skin, and their eyes are the only bright place.
no one can live well. At that time, I suddenly thought that living in the desert is the most monotonous and the most abundant. Days are like sand, like broken grass stems and sand chicken feathers, like perennial sunshine and continuous wind. The simplest is the strongest. Many years ago, Kyle.