The city's buildings, full of sunset dusk. The green stream mist-like Shaohua dialed the branches of the luxuriant block of heavy shadow. By the bright colors of neon makeup over the group of buildings buildings, such as a huge painting from the brilliant lighthouse spires shake down, and that was a low hanging curtain of the night squeezed to the sky pale thin clouds, but the hometown of the clouds? The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it.
And grandfather but forever in the cold winds of that winter, said goodbye to the world, said goodbye to the woodland he poured into half a lifetime of hard work, and finally he was like a leaf on the tree, buried in the mud, a long sleep, and will never wake up. The wind of the hometown is still indifferent, the hometown of the sun is still cold, the hometown of the cloud is still high in the sky roll, but no longer see a kind old man, hunchback to the trees of the enthusiasm, such as ripe fruit hanging on the branches.
I can't remember how tall and straight my grandfather looked before he hunchbacked, but now I can only stay from him in the yellowed photographs, glimpsed him in uniform, and I can't remember how my grandfather fell from the tree and bent his waist into a ninety-degree bend. The impression of the grandfather, the body is always forward leaning out, as if the back rested on a thousand mountains and ten thousand catties tripod, suppressed so that his body can not stretch freely, can no longer be as straight and upright as a tree!
In my childhood, because my parents were busy making a living, I was placed in a foreign house. The green mountains grew with me, the green trees accompanied me in my dreams, and the stars shuttled between my hair. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good deal on the way to the next level! There was also a large and extensive woodland on the opposite hillside, which Grandpa had poured his heart and soul into watering. When I was four or five years old, I became Grandpa's errand boy - handing Grandpa a cigarette, a small bamboo stool, or the tools he needed when he was grafting fruit trees. Grandpa would also tell me those long and old stories over and over again, I listened to them over and over again, always full of novelty and anticipation; Grandpa told them over and over again, and was never tired of them. In the story, Farewell My Concubine, Xue Pinggui's horse stepped on the eighteen rivers and many other storylines took root in my young heart. Whenever night falls, in the three-legged hut outside the house (which was built to guard the forest), the warm light from the pony lamps, and the smell of green grass in the air, Grandpa's stories became lullabies to lull me to sleep.... ...
In the spring, apricot trees, peach trees, plum trees, pear trees, full of hills and slopes bloomed, that floated in the slope on the hillside of the pink-white pink-white flower clusters bloomed in the clouds, as if the world of the fairy fell down on the floating clouds of powder to the whole world of the gossamer mist-like package. Fruit groves on the buds, scrambling to open, you side of the song I stage, this is the grandfather with rough hands planted out of the beauty of ah! In the beautiful flowers bloom together in the spring map, but also in my memory can not be erased. Apricot blossoms crowded the branches, full of tree buds buds can not hold out, all the pink and white and scarlet. The sun is gentle, the breeze is slow, the petals have fallen in the sunlight, hope Yin Yin fly in the blue sky. Before and after the Qingming Festival, the peach and Li Bai fight for color, small small pear blossoms into a group into a group of blossoms, tired and cumbersome bloom of drunkenness, I wore my mother sewing that piece of golden corduroy, the top of the show kitten pattern shirt, such as a butterfly in the flowers under the tree through the line fluttering, the pear blossoms scattered lightly in the sky fell in my hair, eyelids, lips, shoulders, folds of the shirt, leaving a light as water fragrance. I grinned, and Grandpa looked at me and laughed.
June and July is the apricot orange and yellow from the branch, peach and plum smile scarlet season, ripe apricot drops in the bushes, large and small spread all over the ground, eat is early also tired of! Grandpa and his family to break the apricots in the sun to make dried apricots stored, and I help pick up the fruit in addition to the fruit is always hanging on the highest branches, about six or seven ripe fruit full of fascination, which can often provoke me to want to take it determination. So when the family does not pay attention to secretly climb the tree, huh! The result is always apricots did not pick, time and time again there is no danger of recklessness to make Grandpa's soul scared off three times, of course, but also inevitably a lesson. Childhood I am not the kind of very naughty children, but silly, often sitting on the rocks on the riverbank towards the opposite side of the hillside shouting, but always let me wonder, who is imitating my tone of voice? The echo of two or three consecutive tones gradually faded behind the mountain, without trace. Can also be stupid enough to eat a lot of bitter almonds almost sent a little life, is grandfather carried me over the front of the mountain to send me to the hospital. This thing in my mind is extremely vague, are later from the family's jokes only to realize that they have done a ridiculous thing, and now see only two or three months old child to take the medicine still know frown, and why I was stupid enough to take the bitter almonds to eat as sugar! What exactly is the taste of the hard, I did not feel, but every time Grandpa said the details of this incident, I can see his eyes full of love and pity.
Birds fly farther still have to return to their own homes, when I was taken away from my mom from the side of Grandpa, I cried, Grandpa do not want to give up! At that time I had grown to the age when I should be in school. The fields at home were only flat and endless once you went out, except for the poplars on the roadside, which swayed forlornly in the wind, or only the wind swept hurriedly from the roof of this house to the roof of that house. I am extremely uncomfortable with this empty and cold environment. I miss my grandfather's fruit grove, as well as the trees that blossom and bear fruit, and in the wild hut to see the stars in the sky accompanied by the moon on the mountain tops, listening to the nightingale birds in the night time muttering, listening to the insects in the trees crawling micro-voice, listening to my grandfather's story in the mountain wind in the clear sound of the stretches. But once a person grows up, some things are destined to be lost. Every weekend vacation, Grandpa picked a basket full of all kinds of fruits, sent from a long way up the mountain, but also at the same time do not forget to fold down a few branches, on which there are turquoise leaves, red fruits, as if it is in the tree as vivid and vivid. Grandpa was trying to give me the whole spring and the fruit forest. I saw Grandpa's waist bent even more, bent to a parallel line with the ground.
When I rushed back from a thousand miles away and called out to my grandfather in his dying days, it was his last moment. Grandpa weakly opened his eyes, slurred speech, I was beside him he could not tell whether it was me or my sister, a painful grief struck my heart, it turns out that death is how horrible a thing, it can be brutal to the human life from the body gouge out, but also can be taken from the memory of aging thinking, and the human body is just a container of time, once the container of time is full, the container will be broken, and the body's The owner will also follow the death of the face of the vastness of the universe, and finally like dust flying into the underworld. Grandpa is gone, mom said the yin and yang separated by a piece of paper, grandpa in the reverse side of the paper, looking at us in the dark.
Before and after the Qingming Festival is to give relatives on the day of the grave, but far away from my hometown can not go back, in the city, the intersection of the street before the festival, like me, there are many people burning paper on the ground with a branch to draw a circle, for the soul of the deceased to build a temporary station, I wrote on the paper money on the name of the grandpa and the address. The burning fire breaks into the night in clusters, silently turning to ashes in the darkness, I just don't know if Grandpa's footprints can accurately find this place, stop here and take the cold silver from the fire. The tongues of fire are love in the opposite direction, licking at the stealthy darkness, but the winds blow overnight, and at dawn there are only vague traces of ash on the ground, faint and silent. And the morning light is like a rumbling train that is whistling through time.
The spring trees are twigging and spitting, but the road is still the remnants of the winter left behind by the decay of the leaves fall, dry yellow body curled in the grass on the side of the road, the pedestrian's footsteps accidentally stepped on it, in a moment, it will make it crushed to the bone. Death is always accompanied by new life, this is the law of biology, but also the law of nature. The world is a long way, the life of the world is unpredictable, life is so small and helpless, but we use friendship, affection, love into the warmth of the earth, love of life and the future, care for loved ones and friends. In the face of setbacks to maintain an optimistic attitude, as long as there is love in the heart, and only love, life will not exist regret!
The sky, the evening sun burning red clouds such as hometown red in front of Grandpa's grave blooming, crimson color conveys my Grandpa's permanent remembrance and love ......
"Qingming Festival rain has been on the road, the pedestrians want to break their souls. I ask where the tavern is. The shepherd boy pointed to the apricot blossom village." When mentioning Qingming, people will naturally think of this poem by the Tang Dynasty poet Du Mu. Qingming has always given people the impression of a hazy scene of smoke and rain, in the morning, the misty dome, sprinkled with smoke and mist like rain, chilly, such weather can not stop us to go to the cemetery to sweep the graves of the ancestors trip.
The cemetery is in front of the Liancheng Development Zone, not far from the county seat, along the straight highway, and then turn off a muddy path to the car, driving only ten minutes. Cemetery was established in a quiet landscape, backed by the mountains, facing the green water; the left is a few temples, eaves and corners, black tiles and yellow walls, standing solemnly; right is the cemetery, thousands of monuments, pines and cypresses, solemn; rows of monuments shrouded in a hazy smoke and rain, curls of smoke, a desolate, a desolate, a dead; monument in front of the chrysanthemums have been hit by rain and wind blowing away, full of fallen Britain, full of pathos. At this time the wind fluttering, the rain, wind and rain sad people, set down a few cups of cold wine, burned a few handfuls of paper money, burning a few firecrackers, kowtow a few heads, make a few wishes, pay homage to the old man's spirit in heaven.
The green mountain is still there, a few times the sunset red, time has passed twenty-six years, can he perceive our filial piety? He did not see the family's prosperity, did not live today's happy and prosperous life, did not see the rapid changes now, the deceased long gone, the survivors of eternal remembrance! The tone of voice and smile, vivid in the memory, teaching, as if in the ear, stood solemnly in front of the monument, but no words to choke, only the bottom of the heart filled with a ghost of sadness and faint sadness!
Down the hill, such as smoke and mist of the Qingming rain is still floating, loved ones of the spirit, at this moment has long been turned into the wilderness of the green, in the embrace of nature quietly regenerated, and to us to show a kind of eternal vitality. Qingming wind, whisked away the dust of the world; Qingming rain, cleansed the heart of the sadness, so that I feel a kind of bath after the refreshing and fresh. I believe that as long as there is sunshine and rain, life will go from young to mature, from weak to strong, from defective to perfect. If your loved ones are aware of this, the green of the mountains should be their smile of relief.
"Ancient tombs and white poplar trees, all the parting place of life and death." This little poem of the Tang Dynasty poet Du Mu, who chanted about Qingming, is still so sad and dear to me when I read it today. The living will always continue to become the dead, the next generation will continue to grow, the previous generation will continue to age, and will continue to leave this world, this is the law of living things, the law of nature, human society is such a continuation from generation to generation. I often lament the impermanence of the world, life is short, only respect the old and cherish life, life will have no regrets. With others in the difficulties of the same boat **** help, their own frustration in the optimism, as long as there is love in the heart, life is always a beautiful spring.
3
The rain falls at the time of the Qingming Festival
"The wind and pear flowers and snow filled the court, and this year is a Qingming". Qingming was originally "everything grows at this time, all clean and clear" meaning. Later on, but exceptionally has a double identity, and then beyond the farming and agriculture, evolved into a folk traditional festival closely related to the Chinese people. This evolution is naturally based on the traditional virtues and religious beliefs of the Chinese people, rooted in the soil of people's emotions of life and death, and its magic, credibility and immortality of the classic nature of the nature of the natural is y rooted.
From ancient times, it has been a spiritual carrier for people's richly-contained emotions to burst forth. Therefore, among all the chants of the festival, the poem reciting "Qingming" takes the lead, with the largest number and highest quality. It has been reported that some enthusiasts have checked All Tang Poems and All Song Lyrics, and found that there are 335 Tang poems with the words "Qingming" and "Cold Snacks" in their contents, and as many as 520 Song Lyrics, while "Vernal Equinox", "Spring Equinox", and "Cold Snacks" are the most important.
Tang poetry has 335 poems with the words "Qingming" and "cold food", while Song poetry has 520 poems with the words "spring equinox", "mango seeding", and "heat stroke", most of the poems have only about 10 poems, which shows the importance of the poems.
During the Qingming Festival, the atmosphere of paying homage to ancestors, sweeping tombs and memorializing the deceased is doubly strong, and many poets have left their best lines for the ages. The most famous of these is the Tang Dynasty poet Du Mu's "Qingming", which encapsulates the most basic and universal emotional journey of people at this time and place: "The rain falls one after another during the Qingming Festival, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls. Where can I find a tavern? The shepherd boy points to the apricot blossom village". Of course, different times and situations bring different feelings to people. For the Ming poet Gao Qi, who was in a period of war and turmoil, his poem reflects more of the infinite grief brought by war and turmoil to the people: "Full of blood and tears and dust, after the turmoil, it is also sad to go back to my hometown. The wind and rain, the pear blossoms, the cold food, how many graves have children and grandchildren come?" When I read it, the sadness of adding insult to injury permeates it. Far from the poet of the Tang Dynasty, Wen Tingjun conceived of the kind of spring-like poetic: "Qing E painting fan, spring trees jade gold red. Going out to commit the dew of flowers, returning to wear the wind of weak willows." Not as good as the Northern Song poet Huang Tingjian in the "Qingming" poem, wrote "festive Qingming peach and plum smile", "rain enough grass and trees in the countryside soft" Chu Chu moving good mood." The first is that the people in the countryside are not as poor as the people in the countryside. Compared to the poor people in the world, what we see is more of a mirror image of reality: "The wind blows the paper money in the wilderness, and the grass is green in the ancient graves" and "There are many graves in the hills in the north and south, and the Qingming Festival is a great success; the paper ashes fly as white butterflies, and the blood and tears are dyed as red azaleas".
These are the most important things that you can do to make a difference.
The so-called Qingming state of mind each know. Just like the Qingming in my childhood, far from experiencing the pain of bereavement, Qingming is just in my eyes Su Shi wrote "Nan Gezi": "Sun thin flower room bloom, the wind and wheat waves light, the night came to the rain to wash the suburbs of Pangyangdiao, it is a year of spring good nearly Qingming." As well as Xin Qiji's "Linjiang Xian", which expresses his feelings of tranquility: "The wind and rain are urging the spring cold food to approach, the plains are a piece of blue and white. The stream calls for a ferry by the willow. Flowers are flying and butterflies are in disarray, and silkworms are growing in the wild." The latter is a complete depiction of the "Riverside Scroll of Qingming" in my hometown Longhe area. During that period of time, it often made me travel in it. After experiencing the pain of bereavement, I suddenly understood the true meaning of Qingming, it is more encompassed by a deep nostalgia and the state of the time, far from my youthful excitement and classmates, to the hometown of anti-Japanese Hill Martyrs' Cemetery to pay tribute to the martyrs and the simple act of stepping on the green.
In the past two years, since I lost my multi-talented brother and loving grandfather, Qingming, in my more is a kind of emotional regurgitation. It allows me to more y comprehend the pain and farewell, love and regret. During this period, the weather in the northern part of Jiangsu Province is always as good as people want it to be. Wandering in Du Mu's poetic realm, I can't help but to reminisce in it. Either accompanied by a heavy canopy, or a drizzle of rain, which undoubtedly deepened my communication with the deceased loved ones to the state of mind, the rain is like a soul-soothing song, so that I am in the sadness and homesickness of the heart, to say something in the past to the loved ones I did not, dare not or ashamed to say. At that time, those childhood memories awakened from the grass roots, once a very simple thing, but also will become intimate and painful, but also very deep stirring my numb nerves. The rain became the tears of God, the burning of paper money became the mourners cry, the rising and falling chanting reduced to the deep remembrance in the heart,......
Year after year, when I stand in the lonely water ebbing tide of the graveyard, touching the warm bright fluffy of the April sun, in the bleak wilderness over the rough winds kneaded out seemingly laugh like The sound of crying, along the fiber path of each blade of grass to reach the heart, my swan's ambition that had thought of the matter, instantly curled up into light smoke, from which I sensed the life of the bells of the eerily silent.
In the drizzle, I only felt the wind blowing, blowing countless pure leaves, blowing some grass, a person, blowing a mound of fine dust. But it could no longer wake up my departed loved ones. Later, when I walked home alone, I saw those who returned from the graveyard of the village neighbors, some of their faces are also covered with tears and dust, my heart is only a little quiet, born some "clear and bright" meditation ......