The moon
The crescent moon hangs like a comb in mid-air. People say that the moon is the kindest, saddest and most touchable girl, who has any misfortune or sorrow, she always looks at him compassionately and sometimes she sheds tears. I suppose she could not bear to look at the unfortunate people at this time? That is why she hid half of her face; but her pale, hazy light still sympathetically came in through the window-panes. The darkness of the house, too, turned grayish-white.
The crescent moon, hanging high in the sky, cast a faint silver light on the water, adding to the coolness of the water. Across the way, the Evening Fragrance House loomed cold and clear beneath the silver light, and in front of it was a field of brilliant white flowers. There were also mountains, stone walls, peach trees, and willow trees, each in its own color and shape, all seeming to contain untold secrets under the silvery-white moonlight.
The moon is very good at night, it hangs in the sky, although it is still only a crescent moon, far away from Tuanluan, but it sprinkles the soft and clear light all over the earth just the same. The mountain peaks, bamboo forests, fields, houses, fences and haystacks of Qingxi Township, all in the endless white hazy veil of thin silk, seemingly indistinct, mysterious and beautiful.
The air is as clear and blue as a sea, with some floating clouds, as if there is someone who will wash the chalk in the pen wash like swaying, the moon injected a cold wave of light to, like a newly ground iron mirror. Bajin in "home" has also depicted the landscape of the full moon: the front gradually bright, a white bright water across the front, the water layer is the moonlight, into a shiny piece. The ball of the full moon in the water sinking and floating, sometimes slightly in the turbulent water waves into an oval ...... Suddenly, a stone fell into the water, the round of the bright moon washed away, into a large circle. The moon was quickly restored to its original shape, but the circle in the water remained, and gradually widened to nothing.
The moon, which always carries the color of longing, is always accompanied by attachment and sorrow, and has a long history. "The sea rises bright moon, the end of the world *** this time", "Dew from the white tonight, the moon is the hometown bright", "bright moonlight in front of the bed, suspected to be the ground frost. Raise your head to look at the moon, low thinking of the hometown"...... the moon hides the number of people away from the attachment, how many loved ones hosted the yearning. In my heart, the moon is a true confession of love, pure and flawless, beautiful appendix; it is a string of wandering heart sea wishes, sincere and warm!
The moon palace, there is a lonely lonely Chang'e, the moon, also became a lonely incarnation. The moon will not be like the sun as wantonly as the heat to vent their emotions, and will not be like the rainbow with a color palette to tempt the frequency of looking back, the moon, will not, really will not. The moon has, is gentle, is the love, is romantic, is persistent, throughout the ages, I do not know how many conquered the unruly love of men and women, interpretation of how many poignant and beautiful story.
The zigzagging lotus pond above, looking at the field of leaves. Leaves out of the water is very high, like Tingting dancer's skirt. Layers of leaves in the middle, sporadically dotted with some white flowers, there are curly open, there are shyly dozen; as a grain of pearl, like the stars in the blue sky, and as just out of the bath of the beauty. Breeze, send a wisp of fragrance, as if the distant high building faint song. At this time the leaves and flowers also have a tremor, like lightning, all of a sudden spread across the lotus pond over there. The leaves are shoulder to shoulder and close together, which is like a condensed blue wave mark. Underneath the leaves is a vein of running water, covered, can not see some color; but the leaves are more to see the style.
Moonlight, like running water, quietly cascades over the leaves and flowers. Thin green mist floated up in the lotus pond. The leaves and flowers seemed as if they had been washed in buttermilk; and like a dream enveloped in a light veil. Although it was a full moon, there was a light layer of clouds in the sky, so that it did not shine aloud; but I thought that this was just the right thing to do - a sound sleep was indispensable, but a nap also had a special flavor. The moonlight was shining through the trees, and the bushes on the heights were covered with mottled black shadows, as ghostly as the cliffs; and the sparse shadows of the curved willows looked like they had been painted on the lotus leaves. The color of the moon in the pond is not uniform; but the light and shadow have a harmonious melody, such as the famous song played on the Van Shui Ling.
A long time ago, a woman with a heart of gold ran to the moon, and the moonlight of the Mid-Autumn Festival has since become extraordinarily fascinating, and people have since forgotten the rest of the moonlight.
Standing in the downtown area of Causeway Bay during the Mid-Autumn Festival, I unconsciously looked up to the sky for this mesmerizing star.
But looking up, it was gone. All that could be seen were the skyscrapers and the bustle, and all that could be seen was a small part of the sky.
Since I've never been superstitious about the moonlight being prettier than usual in mid-autumn, why do I feel lost at this moment?
Is it that I realize that the moonlight is gone because there are too many tall buildings in front of me. Maybe no one can perceive that the moon appears on fewer days because there are more busy skyscrapers.
With the traditional mooncake gradually being replaced by the iced mooncake, the moon of the Mid-Autumn Festival is also gradually being forgotten. Today, even if the moon no longer appears, we will still celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival as usual, don't you think?
The moonlight remains the same, but people will change. She is no longer the main character of the Mid-Autumn Festival, but may we all know that this is the price behind the prosperity.
Night falls on the earth. I stood in front of a wooden fence and looked up at the sky. I could only see a light and a dark in that half-round moon. There was a blue halo tightly surrounding the moon. Looking away from the moon, I realized that there were countless stars in the sky away from the moon. They were like glittering diamonds, some radiating a dazzling golden light, some emitting a faint white light. Some of them are sparse in all directions, some are dense as a cluster, the sky is decorated by them how beautiful, spectacular ah! The moonlight covered the earth with a layer of silver, and my silently standing figure appeared taller. Behind me, long green vines coiled over the fence, which drew many trumpet flowers. Wooden fence under a piece of unknown small flowers freely open, red, yellow, pink, white, reflecting the moonlight, more delicate and lovely. Autumn wind blew, the fragrance of flowers, gusts of nose. Everything is quiet night, however, I seem to hear an ethereal sound of blowing music ...... Could it be that the trumpet flowers on the green vines are praising this charming moonlit night?
It was a brilliant full moon. It gushed out from that calm sea like a radiant silver disk. The sea, shimmered with a silver wave like fish scales. On the beach, also suddenly bright, a piece of sitting, lying, walking silhouette, see clearly. Ho! On the beach, there were actually so many people taking a cool ride. The sounds of talking, singing, and laughing resounded all over the beach.
The moon rose very high. It was so bright and clear.
Thin as a scale hook, the crescent moon moved slowly through the clouds, occasionally casting a few rays of silvery-white light through the gaps in the clouds, bouncing off the water and disappearing again.
As the sky darkened, a full moon rose! She was golden and golden at first, slowly rising and rising through wisps of light smoke-like white clouds. Suddenly, just for a moment, the moon's color became lighter, lighter, whiter, whiter. She rose proudly and high. She was so lovely and pure in her roundness that she was like a silver jade disk, shooting out a white light.
The light illuminated half the sky. Only in the distant sky could one or two stars be faintly seen, glittering with a pale light and slowly fading away. The river, which had been rushing all day, calmed down and flowed quietly. A full moon was reflected in the water, and the evening wind blew sparkling. Ah! The water lit up, the whole wide river surface is like a mirror, and like a ribbon full of jewels; the ground is also lit up, at a glance, the white blanket, as if covered with a layer of frost.
A white cloud drifted over and covered the moon's beautiful face. The moon was trying its best to bring out the light from the edge of the white cloud, forming a brilliant halo around the white cloud. At this moment, the stars also took the opportunity to compete to radiate a faint light ......
Oh! I love this enchanting moonlit night.
Silver-white moonlight poured over the ground, and the mournful chirping of crickets was heard everywhere. The aroma of the night filled the air, weaving a soft web that covered all the sights. What the eye touches is covered with this soft net, any grass and trees, are not as realistic as in the daytime, they all have a vague, ethereal color, each of which hides its delicate points, keep its secrets, so that people have a kind of dreamlike feeling.
Rain
On the old continent, a thousand houses are so. When I first came to this island more than twenty years ago, the same was true of the Japanese-style tiled houses. First the sky darkened, and the city looked like it was covered in a giant pane of glass, the shadows lengthening and deepening inside the homes. Then cool water filled the space, the wind swirled from every corner, and I could feel the gray clouds covering every roof as it breathed heavily. The rain came, the lightest percussion music beat the city, the pale roof, far and near, a sheet knocked over, the old piano, the rhythm of the fine and dense, monotonous in its own a we have a soft and friendly, drip drip drip drip, seemingly unreal, if a child in the cradle, a song of familiar nursery rhymes shaking sleep, the mother chanting oh nose and throat sound. Or in the water country of Jiangnan, a large basket of green mulberry leaves were engaged in a thousand silkworms, fine and trivial, mouthpiece and mouthpiece chewing and chewing. The rain came, the rain came when the tile so say, a tile say, a hundred billion version of the tile say, gently play it sinking play, slowly knocking it tart tart hit, intermittent knocking a rainy season, improvisation from the hibernation to the Qingming, in the scattered graves on the cold play elegy, a tile chant a hundred billion pieces of tile chant.
Listen to the rain in the old Japanese-style house, listen to the April, faying incessant yellow moldy rain, night and day, ten months stretched, wet sticky moss from under the stone steps has been invasive to the bottom of his tongue, the bottom of his heart. In July, listening to typhoons and rain in the ancient house of a night blind play, a thousand seabed heat wave boiling by the gusts of the wind, overturning the entire Pacific Ocean just to his short roof pressed down, the whole sea in his snail shell clattered through. Otherwise, it is the night of thunderstorms, listening to the capricorn drums pass and pass in the white-smoke gauze tent, the torrential rainstorms rushing in, the powerful electric lute apprehensive, the palpitations of the flicked roof tiles wanting to be lifted up. Otherwise, it is a slanting northwest rain slanting, brush on the windowpane, whip on the wall hit in the broad banana leaves, a spring rinse diarrhea, autumn will be filled with Japanese-style courtyard.
Listen to the rain in the old Japanese-style house, spring rain to hear the autumn rain, from the teenager to hear the middle-aged, listen to the cold rain. Rain is a monotonous and durable music is indoor music is outdoor music. Listen to it indoors, listen to it outdoors, listen to it cold, that music. Rain is a kind of memory music, listen to that cold rain, memories of the rain in Jiangnan is full of rivers and lakes under the bridge and the boat, but also under the Sichuan in the rice paddies and frog ponds, under the fertilization of the Jialingjiang River under the wet Bugu cooing cries. Rain is moist moist music down in the eager lips lick that cold rain.
Because the rain is the most primitive percussion music from the other side of the memory. Tile is the most lowly musical instrument gray and gentle covering the people who listen to the rain, tile is the umbrella of music held up. But soon the era of apartments came, Taipei how you grow taller all of a sudden, the music of the tile has become extinct. Thousands of pieces of tile fluttering, beautiful gray butterflies have flown away into the memory of history. Now it rains down, on the concrete roofs and walls, a rainy season without sound. The trees are cut down too, that laurel.
That's all for now, more to bump content.