My thoughts go back to my childhood.
At that time, the houses were all tiled, and the windows were very small, only one foot square. The house was dark in the daytime. The house was dark in the daytime. There was no electricity, and in the summer, it was unbearably hot.
Near the house, there was a bridge, which was open and cool.
In the evening, Rong and I pushed our cool beds and went to grab a spot. In the past, there were many dragonflies, most of them were red dragonflies, and they flew all over the sky, which was very beautiful. We took a broom and played with the dragonflies, and we laughed and chased them around, not realizing that it was already dark.
More and more people are riding on the cooler, the bridge is crowded. The stars in the sky also quietly ran out to join in the fun, the beautiful sky, like in the black silk satin studded with night pearl.
People were talking together, and there was one old grandfather who had especially many stories. He loved Rong and me, and we were his most devoted listeners. Story after story, we will give him a back pounding, 'cut sugar cane' (that is, one hand pulls up the meat on the back, the other hand to cut through) always ask us how many cut? The story is that the first time you cut a hundred times for a story.
Tired, lying on the cool bed to see the stars, see the moon, my mother gave me a fan to drive mosquitoes, she told me which is the Big Dipper, which is the South Pole Immortal Weng, which is the Cowherd, which is the Weaving Maiden, as well as their children, and the Weaving Maiden's shuttle ...... is always full of reverie, fantasizing that they have also become the sky one, or can pick a little star, put in the home to light up how good it is. Maybe God knows my wish, so, sprinkled with a lot of small stars, that is, fireflies, we scramble to catch, sometimes catch more than ten, put in a thin cloth made of a small bag, look at them flash ah, flash ah, feel that they have picked the stars as ......
Nowadays, summer nights, open the air conditioning, and peacefully I'm not sure how much more comfortable it is to go to sleep. But I am so nostalgic for the past, miss the stars, the moon, the story, the fireflies ......
Summer Nights Prose 2When the moon season is in bloom, the days of June have become more mercurial than ever before, and the rain that should have fallen in the spring has been competing for the top spot in the summer.
The wall clock ticking towards one in the morning, the rumbling of thunder a sound over a sound, lightning such as ghosts like a flash of a flash. In a few moments, heavy rain, dense rain, seems to be talking about the heart of the matter, silk, stranded, tied up, entangled in the tears of how many obsessed people.
The day opened its dark mouth, as if to swallow the whole earth, the wind and rain hit the windows, the plant began to drip drip drip drizzle.
The car table was running normally, I could sit very quietly and listen to the rain, listen to the summer night rain, how to introduce themselves in a strong way. The sound of rain is getting louder and louder, the roar of the machine is covered, the vision is gradually being blurred, and even the eyebrows are also stained with the breath of the rain, the whole person is so obsessed through the rain curtains, searching for the rain, searching for that a once lost beauty.
In such a silent rainy night, always miss a place for no reason, remember some people, think of some things. Only, I can no longer hear the insects there, lurking in the grass in a small sound, and can not see the pool side, the two pairs of fluttering figure of the dragonfly.
My eyes dimmed all bright objects and ached without hope. The green grass beckons me, the cicadas whimper and seduce me, and the dramatic change of scene haunts me. The feathers that once, so desperately wanted to spread their wings and fly, now, drooping listlessly, have lost the courage to fly. And I, a drop of insignificant raindrops arranged by the God of Fate, only helpless it, only sigh it.
The rain outside the window, drop by drop, rustling sound, is in the playful laughter? Or is it crying in sorrow? The window glass reflects a haggard face, there is rain from the cracks of the broken window frame drilling, will be the shadow blurred. Countless drops of rain like countless tears, sometimes tight and sometimes sparse, in the broken walls, silence. The rain in Jiangnan is endless and lingering. I don't know, this night rain, and whose injury? Who is hurt?
Summer Nights Prose 3In front of the Waterfront Hall, the countryside still exists. But it is not that simple. The night of the bright moon, the short pine tree, the cicadas are still loud, but no people listening to the cicadas, the cicadas ripple in the air in some hot, but it seems a little pale and monotonous.
On a midsummer's night, the courtyard is less filled with the laughter of young and old, and more filled with the sound of several air conditioners turning. The moonlight is sprinkled on the ground like water, in bits and pieces, flashing and flashing.
You once measured the distance between people's hearts, and you said that they were close at hand, but their hearts were far away from each other.
You also said that the day when hearts are tightly linked together is the moment you come back.
It is also such a midsummer night, I was confused to watch the rebellious you, like a meteor fleeing from here. I do not understand. I only remember the powerful words you left me before you left: remember to get out of the mud.
I remember I heard you start this sentence, I have been in pursuit of the trail of the lotus, I even hope, in a moonlit night, and you encountered in the lotus pond.
This year is already 2008, you have been away for three whole years. I always remember you, the sister who grew up with me, the persistent you. I've always kept the 'picture' of being with you in my head, although it's a bit blurry.
I lay flat on my back on the early ground next to the lotus pond, looking at the starry sky dotted with stars and the empty surroundings. I feel the breath of nature, want to get away from the hustle and bustle, hypocrisy gradually away.
Gradually, gradually, I fell asleep. In a daze, I seemed to hear you calling me. I woke up with a jolt. Around, gradually have some coolness, I stood up, looking at the infinite and vast starry sky, a long time to contemplate, contemplating ......
I slowly walked to the edge of the pool, looking at the lotus brilliantly open, chewing on the words you left me: out of the silt and not stained. I seem to understand a few points, turned around, looked at the village lights, actually feel this place where I grew up so strange.
The fireworks were set off in the distance, and you once said that the place where the fireworks were set off was the root of the hypocrisy. I wondered why I knew every word of yours by heart and remembered it so clearly.
Look up. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to do that.
Looking back at those lost years, the heart is filled with a trace of sadness.
Three years ago, you took the wind and left, and walked to that dashing, free. Three years later, I want to follow your trail, step on the radiant avenue, leaving. Perhaps it is for that produced a small ****ing.
I took care of the body has some messy clothes, leaning on the tree, gazing at the sky for a long time ......
I am confused. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it.
Can you tell me the answer?
This midsummer night when the moonlight is like water
I don't know where to go from here
I want to imitate your spontaneity, your stubbornness
Maybe I won't be lost
Fragmentation of the moonlight
Weaves my thoughts of you
Maybe
Only the collision of the mind
Will make me miss you so much
I'm not sure if you're the only one who has a good idea. I miss you so much
My thoughts are all over the place
It's a mess
Those memories
I've carefully sifted through them
Some of the unpleasantness
I've let it fade away into oblivion
As time passes by
I've read your helplessness
The sadness
That you're so sad that you'll never know how much you want me to do. The sadness
The rebelliousness
I somewhat understand Su Shi's "ten years of life and death ......"
I am not as miserable as Su Shi
But I am as sad as he was
The night
The night
I am not as sad as Su Shi was. p> Good quiet Good quiet ......
Summer Nights Essay 4From time to time, summer nights filter out the heat and noise of the day over and over again. As the night deepens further, it finally replaces the silence completely. This is when the ego finds its home. When completely again to break the silence, thoughts, also arbitrarily in the display of flooding up.
I really like the lanai on summer nights, because it is a place for imagination and comfort. During the day, this place will be called the balcony, the veritable sun will be unrestrained in the flood here, so that people are daunted. Only at night, the soft wind slowly blowing in, although the summer wind, but also has long been the heat of the day into a soft, but also contains a hint of coolness, brushing on the body, is a kind of lifting the tease, suitable and cozy. Every time you walk off the screen before coming here, there are always some reverie and hope to fly and swing here, tired and sleepy seems to be instantly refreshed, replaced by an elegant delicate and cohesive chic. Looking at the distant lights, those glittering expectations seem to be instantly connected, and become a long flash.
The summer night, the most out of the house, come in the summer insects chirping Stranger Garden. Whether it is grass or bushes, all the show and modesty shy hide, waiting for a night of favor and wandering. That from the day's intense to the night's subtle release, only in the heart of the spirit of the covenant will be latent and sublimation. Holding the call of the stringed moon, holding the fiber rope of the tie, either divine thought, either arbitrary, either debauchery, or naughty. There is no point in hiding, not the slightest semblance of concealment. On those filled with the cumulative wish and long brewed romance over and over again, layer by layer, stripped, over and over again hit, until the body is not perfect also in the ......
Willing to scavenge in the relatively long and short summer night, because it is a dry country not suitable for sleep. The first thing you need to do is to pick up and pick up, and those who don't mind, but also love to put into the basket of food, until the basket can no longer be filled.
When there is no wind and no waves, it is not easy to be liberated by the air conditioner. So, those who care about the beauty of the show, those obsessed with the temptation, are turned into electric garbage and the net of the burden, fixed for the night of the ugly luxury and disordered flaunting.
Waiting for the rain on a summer night, that is the best match and ultimate partner of night and rain. The night of this should be the pearl and the rain and, why a man and a woman! The rain of the night, has long been the connotation and extension of the rain dance in place very thoroughly; the rain of the night, more so that the depth of the night and solid transported to the special input special effort. Harmony between heaven and earth, rationality and nature, happy to meet in the night under the care of rain; people and the emperor, spiritual desire, taste in the rain of the night in the encounter. Pouring the obsession, wet intoxication, all converge and implementation in this long-lost space and intensive experience.
Summer night.
Summer Nights Prose 5After a late summer rain, the sweltering heat flew away at once. After a full meal, I leisurely leaned on the door frame and found the night extraordinarily beautiful and moving.
Twilight began to close, darkness began to cover the earth, a bend of the lonely wheel rising from the sky, exuding a cold ghostly light. Although I felt the silence hovering around me, I could faintly hear the clamor coming from the distance. The lonely moon still hung in the sky, surrounded by blackness, like a helpless traveler drifting in all directions. Black, chaotic and unfathomable, I don't know what it wants to reveal to people, so that people can't help but ponder and fear. Maybe that's why God lets us work during the day and sleep at night! Even though the village where we live is somewhat remote, the people in the village are still busy. And listen, the market, a burst of buying and selling shouts echoed; square, a dynamic music spread, rippling in the village ......
Without realizing it, the moon has crossed the horizon through the treetops, around the houses, but also gradually much brighter, and ultimately high in the sky. The moon, radiating a wisp of ghostly light, enveloping the earth. All of a sudden, the surroundings seemed to be covered with a silver veil, which was faint and thin, vague and seemingly absent. At a closer look, the moon actually showed a light pink face. The moon is like a girl who, when she meets her lover's intimate care, her white face becomes a little pink. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and you'll be able to do it all at the same time.
The moon is hazy, can not help but indulge in it, suddenly, "croak - croak -" a loud frog sound pulled back my thoughts. Oops! The nature concert that had started long ago was in full swing. "Forget it, I can't sleep anyway, might as well listen to this rare concert!" I mumbled. Croaking sounds continue to pour into my ears, although they are all croaking, but their respective rhythms are different: or upright as a peak, if clear as a stream; or vast as the sea, such as condensed smooth grease; there are full of floating sense, but also heavy, low, and girlishly shy thoughts ...... vaguely, in the midst of the crowd of frogs, I also heard the unknown The sound of insects, crisp and sharp. With the sound of frogs, sometimes exuberant, sometimes low and melodious, sometimes short side eye and urge powerful, sometimes long and thin stream. Gradually more and more musicians involved, vaguely distinguishable sound.
A cool breeze, accompanied by crisp "tinkling" wind bells, very refreshing! Outside the window, the branches of the tree in the light of the moonlight by the wind blowing left and right, rustling. It seems that the trees are also enjoying themselves, so they nodded their heads and bowed their heads uncontrollably, just like me, pointing out the beauty here and appreciating the fascination there. A fragrance was smelled by my sluggish nose, I do not know whose flowers are open in the night.
In this night sky deep, shy moon ghost, the sound of insects, the sound of frogs continuous, the breeze lingering summer night, let me intoxicated, forget the time and sleepy. Finally, pillowed by this secluded, dazed and confused into dreamland.
Summer Nights Prose 6The moonlight drifted over from the shade of the trees, if anything, silky. Spotty broken white like crystal pearls, with the breeze rolling on the ground. At this time, if there is piano music is more poetic. Moonlight, piano rhythm intertwined together, from the dense foliage through the midsummer night more and more quiet.
I woke up in the silence of the night, and my thoughts were as endless as the floating glow. I was quiet and listened to the sound of the sky and the earth meeting under the curtain of the night. It's like a gentle serenade rippling through the mind. When a certain rhythm is associated with memory, it has a different kind of beauty.
Daytime is inconvenient, thoughts can only be in the heart. The only time it is active is when the night is overshadowed. I am dumbfounded, are sentiments the elves of the night, growing only in the absence of clamor? Probably not. Even in the bright white day, a small flower will make the sentiment suddenly soft.
Along the winding path, walking in the grove. Night, midsummer night, after the rain pounces.
This is a narrow green belt. The road is not hardened, and the surface is wet and muddy. Usually few people come, and it is even more secluded after the rain. I walked through the fence of the bamboo forest, strolling in the lawn surrounded by zoysia, and then not too fast and not too slow, walking, perceiving the summer of the soft and quiet.
There is a barbecue garden in the distance, crowded, bustling. I am accustomed to the seclusion, the bustle and I am out of place, although I do not hate the hustle and bustle, but also do not like this scene. As I walked all the way, the hustle and bustle finally drowned in the night.
In the past nights, there were some lovers here. The summer of June is so understanding, an unexpected rain thanked all the uninvited guests, for me to keep a piece of quiet and secluded.
Summer is like a woman holding a piano, touching it gently, chanting and praying in silence. Listening to the heart of the summer, the tenderness of the tenderness in the fluttering words of expectant full. In such a serene and soft atmosphere, even a tough man with a sword drawn would have a soft and gentle feeling, not to mention being intertwined with me in the purity of the Mu Jing.
I'm going to go step by step into the depths. Although it is a full round of June night, the silver basin has not yet risen, light and shadow haze. Bamboo without the mottled silhouette of the day, a group of flotsam dark hanging in the bamboo pole. Willow low-hanging, like a beautiful woman's soft hair. Horsetail pines are crowded, dark and deep. What's more, there is the small poplar tree, proudly tilting its head up, glowing with youthfulness. Everything in front of me makes me can not help but sigh softly: so beautiful summer yo.
Yes, the summer has long been the shallow and simple beauty of the girl. The summer has grown into a big girl, not afraid of the storm, not afraid of the scorched earth, lush, tough and calm. The plump body is mature and charming, quiet and elegant. At this moment the summer, although not so glowing during the day, the beauty of the eyes, but there is a kind of more call me the beauty of pity and adoration. Clean, pure, calm, serene, a wisp of soft wind blowing over, dark fragrance floating. The heart and soul of such a mesmerizing meeting, how perfect it is!
I gathered running away from the thoughts, and gazed at the summer of Chu Chuxiang. I know, every time I miss you, I will hear the call of the heart, as if to see you smiling, beckoning to me. Facing the soft and elegant summer, heart palpitations soul. At this time I should burn incense and clean hands, clarify the mind filter, in the quiet and solemn beauty of the midsummer night, said: I eternally adore you, my summer.
Summer Night Prose 7Early summer a rain in the night lingering fall, gradually, the heat wave brought by the day began to slowly convergence, the night also obliterated the hubbub, lights and wine, but in the smoke and rain show the shadow. Quietly people, not to mess with the smoke pavilion willow wind, not to dip cloud bridge drunkenness, leaning on the window quietly listen to the rain.
Early summer night smoke and rain hazy vision, pulling the distant mountains closer to the far, so that people's call reached you in the sky city. Retract the gaze lonely counting the raindrops, drop by drop smashed to the eaves of the green stone plate, crumbling splash, such as my dream, broken. Lonely people, let my footsteps across your thoughts, in this early summer night of smoke and rain, let the dream once again tender green. Resist the melody of the heartbeat to open the window, close your eyes to feel the raindrops flying through the window pane touching the cheeks, cool, just the right amount and my scarlet face of hot and spicy, low brow, picking up a piece of the old story, listening to the sound of the rain outside the window and slowly savor it.
For a long, long time can not be so quiet listening to the rain, perhaps by the red dust trivialities involved in the leisure interest? Perhaps the noise drowned out the cozy sound of the rain? Perhaps it is a long time have not been such a lonely luxury? ...... are not! I don't want to listen, I'm afraid that once I listen to this, I will bring myself into the whirlpool of thoughts, and never turn around the circle of sensibility.
The lilac flowers at the mouth of the alley in the rain bloomed, right, lilac-like girl has not come? In this early summer rain I look for the shadow of the person playing the flower folding umbrella, a drop of rain confused eyes, kneaded makeup, presenting the thoughts of the person's purity. The sound of this early summer rain such as qin and seer harmony played a melody, in the dead of night, in a dream like non-dream listening, leaning on an idle window, stranded all thoughts, just quietly listen to it.
Early summer rain outside the window rustling, a clump of roses wet, in the night can not see how many of its fall. The rain also rustled in the heart, people will rub the mood thrown into the rain, the night, can not see that the rain flowers broken as a ground. The window will open wide, explore the palm of the window to let the fine rain in the palm of your hand, along the veins of the palm lines, flowing into the interlaced traces, the depth of the emotional lines ah can accommodate how much aggression? Face close to the window, the early summer rain on the lips, but some astringent flavor, such as the tears of my quiet night thoughts, I hope that the tears do not waste a cavity of deep love in an early summer rain!