After walking through the small pass, I meditated for a long time and felt a desolate breath from my heart.
Xiao Guan, I slowly approached you, only to find that my memory has begun to blur. Stiff eyes can't be taken back for a long time, just like the branches of trees in winter reaching out to the sky as always,
Silence. Facing the solidified pale yellow that crashed into my eyes, I fell silent with Xiao Guan.
two
Xiao Guan, like a curling column of smoke, brought panic and trembling to Xihaigu.
At this moment, it seems hard for me to believe that the bloody battle of Kingoma took place in Xiaoguan without lifting the veil. It seems difficult for me to understand why scholars such as Li Bai and Li He dream of Xiao Guan, and it is even more difficult to imagine why a sad poem "Xiao Guan" will become an eternal swan song.
Standing at Xiao Pass, overlooking the vast mountains, gently closing your eyes will move your heart for a long time. The setting sun sinks into the distant mountains, the cold wind and the sound of the ancient Qiang flute come face to face, and it seems that I hear a burst of shouts and shasheng rolling in my ears ... The ancient city of Xiaoguan has had many sorrows in my life, or just like its name, it is destined to be full of bleak sadness.
three
Xiaoguan is a strange name to many people. Indeed, because we are so far away from them, when I first set foot on this land, I still couldn't believe that I could find the remains of that year. Although you finally disappeared into nature, you still remember the mountain wind in the wilderness and your sad sobs; Long white clouds also remember, remember your original appearance.
Walking through Xiaoguan, dilapidated ancient monuments and broken Hanwa can be seen everywhere. The fierce fighting has passed, and the shocking bones are deserted in the weeds. In the late autumn season beyond the Great Wall, I feel sad for no reason. Dedication, Dedication, until it finally goes up in smoke, leaving only some inedible poems for history.
Looking back suddenly, where are you? At that time, the majestic Liupanshan was out of reach, just silently watching all this passing. Maybe winter is your favorite. By that time, snow can completely bury you, so no one knows where you are going. The silent Xiao Guan is still silent, and the ancient Xiao Guan is still ancient, but today is not like today. Yesterday, I was suspected of being young. When is the evening? Whether we can wait until tomorrow, but how many tomorrow!
four
The sunset glow before sunset painted the whole small customs with dignified colors. Grasping the soil at the foot is permeated with the infinite loyalty and courage of the garrison soldiers from generation to generation. The setting sun is slanting, hanging on the edge of the western hills, looking at the boundless earth with reluctance.
So that you become a tucheng, still standing in the north with your head held high. I don't know how many years have passed, but I can still feel how the wanderer who can't go home endured the suffering of homesickness in a foreign land. Every time I walk on the ridge, I feel an indescribable thrill; Every time, I want to think of the indomitable snow lotus and the camphor climbing on the iceberg; Touch the texture of history with great love every time. However, I still can't know exactly how broad your whole thinking is after the wind, frost and blood rain. How majestic are all your pentiums?
five
Interpretation of Xiao Guan, I am not a wise elder, holding the' colored pen' in my heart to explore the depth of the rock; Reading Xiao Guan, I am just a latecomer, like a sailor flying in the sea, embracing the glory of the sun to the earth without scruple. The vigorous eagle flies freely in the boundless blue sky, but tells the eternal story of life? The pious little customs jump and burn in the bottomless sea of hearts, but the eternal love for the land? History is not a closed iron gate. The deeper the traces of the past are buried, the more profound it will be for the future.
Interpreting Xiao Guan, I think, I think, I have been asking, who is the most important, language or writing?
Interpretation of Xiao Guan, the exhibition has a special color, particularly dazzling, particularly carefree, particularly infectious.
Looking for fragments of memory in the ruins of Xiao Guan, the wind roared and Malik galloped, and only in a place like Xiao Guan can we feel it so deeply. The noise of the city makes me unable to hear all the languages of the wind, because the crowded city makes me unable to see the purity and integrity of the sky. The only thing I can do is to create a clear and open realm in my inner world, then listen to the inner wind, count the inner geese, and try to keep myself as much as possible in that era when I am easy to lose myself.
We often want to answer the question: What am I? I am a newly sprouted plant, a dewdrop in full bloom and a lotus root buried in the mud. But I want to be the most common brick in Xiaoguan City. I came from the mountains and brought the mountain breeze. I come from the horizon, bringing blue; As time goes by, I am a soldier who defends the territory. I have an immortal heart. I'm growing, and growing makes me stronger.
Suddenly, someone was singing on the ridge. The singer clings to the edge of life, and wheat fields and rice fields are his endless destination.
six
I chose to leave, since I have been here, since I have seen it, I don't need to look back. Because I'm afraid to look back at Xiaoguan, I'll never give up this sunset and awe-inspiring Xiaoguan in my life.
Suddenly, I thought of Zhao Jun, a beautiful Han woman.
Zhaojun went to the castle, and in the painter's selfish desire, he painted the ancient road, the west wind, the thin horse, the willows and the sunset. There was an urgent pastoral outside the Great Wall. Another woman became a gift from the powerful to appease the lonely smoke in the turbulent desert thousands of miles away.
Zhaojun, a warm name, conquered history and calmed the war with his beauty. In this way, she went to the depths of Alakazam without hesitation. This is a road that cannot be turned back. She walked for dozens of days. Dozens of days, in the vast life, what is it? But those dozens of days are a lifetime thing for her. Zhaojun in history has fixed the template of her life: holding the pipa and walking alone in the sunset and miserable grass. And this desolate little pass has just become the curve of the turning point in her life. "The eyes are cold and the grass is short, and the moonlight is bitter and frosty." "Pingsha is vast and boundless, and no one is seen."
The natural environment itself is a kind of suffering. How did Zhao Canjun's thin shoulders bear these sufferings? Fate is something you can never get rid of. As soon as she stepped out of the Great Wall, she was doomed to never return.
"Beyond the sunshine, there is no one. Only the geese by the river, Qiu Lai flies south. " Zhao Jun, who was sent to China, has some kind of heroic bearing that will never return. However, how is her heart boiling? When she paused on Xiao Guan, she thought for a long time, shed tears and left. Zhao Jun may understand that she is only a symbol of pain in history. What can you expect? Still looking forward to it?
seven
Xiaoguan, an ancient fortress, a silent fortress, sleeps forever in the long river of history.
Walking through Xihaigu, through Xiaoguan, through the sand of traffic jam, I dare not open my eyes to read the trembling age of trees. My face is warmed by fiery red clouds.
Every detail of the story of crossing Liupan Mountain, crossing Xiaoguan, getting out of lonely time and extending the background is wonderful. However, my stone-like thoughts can't hatch readable passion, and there is only a little melancholy and sadness floating between heaven and earth!