The grasslands in Saibei are blown by the spring breeze in April, and the barren hillsides are actually a little green. The old locust tree in front of the house has many white flowers hanging on it, which look like the phoenix hairpins on the hair of Dai girls, hanging in bits and pieces on the temples. It's dangling here and there, catching the eyes of passers-by.
Chasing the spring spirit, I watched the thin willow branches clinging to the breeze, trembling slightly and hanging the tender buds on the branches. I felt faintly distressed because of the fragile appearance.
I lit the spring water with a broom and swept the small courtyard again and again. Looking at the empty swallow's nest under the eaves, I sent my eyes to the far south.
Last year in late autumn, you followed the fragrance of flowers and wandered far away, leaving the swallow's nest empty. Waiting for the moon to wax and wane, waiting for the plum snow to turn into a tree of ice flowers. Wait until the new clothes worn during the New Year are put into the red box, and wait until the river at the head of the village sings a clear song again.
Always wake up in the moonlight, let the tears wash away the face of the moon, and hang it crookedly on the small window. I secretly want to pry and miss your mood. Looking at it quietly, transparent and pure, brings out sad thoughts. I can't tell you, I don't want you to know. Close the embroidered curtains and hide the moonlight into the curtains. I am ashamed to think about your thoughts and let them hide in the darkness of this moment. The facial makeup of Sichuan Opera is decorated with red and white.
He stretched out his arms and lazily hugged the bear next to him, burying his face into its chest. The plush feeling was very warm. My heart that misses you turns into a strand of silk thread, thousands of them, winding around and around my heart, and finally becomes a cocoon
The depth of memory is inadvertently. The curtain of hidden sorrow. It's like an edited version of an old movie, played out in fits and starts.
You are a wounded purple swallow, a fledgling, who has fallen in love with the outside world unintentionally. It was an early morning, and you, trying to fly, made a beautiful glide from the sky. Then there was a muffled sound of "pop", and I fell into the dreamland of the yellow earth. Broken, thrilling. You were injured, neighing sadly under my window. Facing this first flight, I failed miserably and had a silent ending, losing my mind. He fluttered in confusion, flapping his helpless wings in vain, with a panic that could not be hidden in his eyes.
I carefully caught you and held you in my hands, for fear that my hands would hurt you without knowing the severity. That morning, I caressed your injured limbs, and your pain became a secret in my heart. The exquisite design of the golden cage will give you a paradise in your dreams, as well as the soft love. Plan your future.
The beautiful fairy tale world helps you find Cinderella’s glass slipper. Look at you wearing a purple dress and standing gracefully in the golden hall. Calm and relaxed.
The shallow sunlight shines in the warm room, basking you and squinting your eyes. Filtering the sunlight, I wonder about you in the cage, listening to your sisters and brothers whispering loudly and softly to you in the cage in the nest under the corridor.
I don’t understand Yan Yu, and I don’t know what kind of conspiracy you are planning. But I like to listen to the birds singing in that courtyard, and I am happy to be busy running around. Staring at you as you eat the shredded vegetables I chopped just for you. Don't you like it anymore? Or do you want to fight to the death and escape from the siege of the golden cage? Just close your eyes. Refuse to pay attention to me and resist the earthworms and green spinach sprouts I prepared for you. Under the sun, the human eye looks at the bird's eye, and we confront each other and become mortal enemies.
Fortunately, your father came to keep peace and promised to let you go, but he would not put you back in your bird's nest, just without a cage. The range of activities was as far as I could see. I accidentally got tainted with a strange atmosphere, fell in love with your purple clothes unintentionally, and unintentionally interpreted another meaning of being involuntarily.
I see you in the courtyard every day, jumping around looking for food, lonely, but also leisurely and comfortable. Just because of you, I have to go to the fields and start a hide-and-seek game with earthworms, cicadas, and caterpillars. When they hide, I look for them, digging three feet into the ground. Let them see the fierce god with pigtails and colorful clothes.
Slowly, your wings will be full. Slowly, you will be able to fly off the ground and climb the short fence in the courtyard. Let the yellow chrysanthemum on the fence lightly dye your purple clothes, and the fragrance will enter the swallow's nest.
On an unexpected day, you soared into the sky, chasing the red clouds, disappearing into the blue sky, and following the white clouds in the blue sky. Do you want to cut Nayun's yarn and make a scarf for someone? Accompanied by the dream of lightness, you linger between the sky, the earth and the treetops. Occasionally you will soar into the sky, and occasionally you will swoop down to my side like an arrow from a string and take a graceful glance.
Finally one day, you flew around me several times, and then rushed into the blue sky, flying farther and farther away, with your back so far away that there was no longer any nostalgia. I opened my eyes in vain, watching you jump into the blue.
Without your presence, my heart becomes increasingly empty for no apparent reason. I couldn't bear to look at the empty nests and missing swallows in the yard. The caterpillar raised its long tentacles, swung its head and tail, and walked in a figure of eight, looking defiant. Ren Qiucicada sings the triumphal song after the victory. The song is loud and clear, ushering in the fragrance of melons and fruits in autumn. Let it hang lazily on the cradle made of willow leaves and sleep for a thousand years.
Looking at my despair, my father patted my head and said with a smile: "It is a swallow, and it should be allowed to return to the blue sky. Just wait here for the ice to melt and the snow to melt. It must come with spring in mind.
At that time, the pear blossoms were fragrant, and the willow silk was at its most delicate. "That night, you fell into my dream. In the dream, pear blossoms were hanging on the treetops in white. In the dream, you played the pipa alone, wearing a black and purple dress and a white shirt.
Dots of starlight were crushed by the fence and scattered all over the floor. The empty bird's nest still retains the familiarity and warmth of the past under the eaves, quietly waiting for the dove whistle from the blue sky to tell you that spring is here. It's time to go home. But this year, it's time for you to come through the clouds and wind with your beloved wife and son. I wonder what you will tell her about me with my two braids. The girl who picked up vegetables, looked for bugs, and healed your wounds. The girl who fell in love with your shadow, looked forward to the end of winter and the return of spring, and waited for the four seasons.
The fence is still there, I still clean it spotlessly for you every day, the scenery is still the same, the pear blossoms are falling, how long will it take for you to come back...