You are just one of many ravines in northern Shaanxi. But you are more than just an ordinary place name. The reputation of Northwest Trunk Wharf and "the first state in the world" has long been branded in people's hearts and remains in the glory of the past.
Railway chose you because of your good name, and I chose you because of the existence of railway. I fell in love with you deeply.
I love the majestic station building under your lights, the tranquility when the whistle cuts through the night sky, the laughter of the Wuding River running down from you, and the mountains filled with thick loess fragrance.
Your night is colorful. Although it is only a county town, there are lively people here every night. Every time the train stops, crowds of people will pour out of the station and join the enthusiastic and noisy queue; Crowds of people will squeeze into the waiting hall and enter the station to embark on their own journey.
Your night is also quiet and heavy. After the train, you can hear the barking of dogs and insects in the surrounding villages, the footsteps of pathfinders under colorful signal lights and the roar of meteors in the vast night sky.
I can't help loving you, those rolling mountains, clear water and green trees; I can't help loving you, those yellow slopes with the same skin color as me; I can't help loving you, those who add color and laughter to you; I can't help loving you, the railway workers who abandoned their families and stuck to their posts all the year round.
The trees on the hillside are green year after year. Is it your hair? Fluttering with the wind in the blue night sky; The three office buildings standing on the edge of the square in front of the station are pearls embedded in you, shining brightly under the illumination of lights; Is the overhead contact line on the railway your stage? You are still dancing with the beautiful image of overhead contact line workers in the afterglow of the sunset; Are the colorful traffic lights your eyes? They are still affectionate in the persistence of the night.
I don't know what kind of autumn wind killed the warmth of your ravine, and what kind of cold froze your passion.
But you are still beautiful, the whole station is still full of money, and the Mercedes-Benz train is still fulfilling your sacred mission. It's just that people will pay more for you. Frostbite hands and feet, purple lips, tall and straight posture when receiving and dispatching trains on cold nights, and standardized actions when rectifying equipment at the "skylight" point are all special gifts of your unique season and another beauty of your cold nights.
But at this moment, I am held in your arms, quietly listening to your breath. You are colorful, quiet as Sanskrit, flowing for thousands of years, standing on the loess slope for hundreds of millions of years, just to witness my love for you at this moment.
The rolling loess slope is still surrounded by layers of green, and the beautiful and spectacular station building and three office buildings are still shining like bright pearls. And we, under the blue night sky and the silver moon, embraced deeply.
I can't hear the hustle and bustle of the outside world, and I can't see the smoke and smog in the city. Without sorrow and worry, I forget fatigue and loneliness, and my heart is as pure as a pool of water. So I hugged you tightly and hugged you in the quiet and colorful night of Suide Station.
Ah, the night at Suide Station is really beautiful.