1
Roaming through the darkness of the night's clear and silent heart, you came from a distant dream.
At that time, I was standing on a high platform, holding a cup of fragrant tea, quietly waiting for you.
I was sipping a leaf of fragrant tea when I looked down and inadvertently saw you quietly slipping into that cup of light. I hurriedly looked up to meet you, and at that moment, my eyes were completely seized by you at once.
Your clear and icy face was being held out from a round of bright mirror, and the clear and bright eyes penetrated my sorrow and brightened my heart. I can smell the clean white scent of osmanthus now.
There has never been a hand as ironic as yours. When your ice-soft jade finger from the heart warmly caressing over, my countless mutilated expectations, in an instant complete into a ball of blue lotus, blooming in my wave-free heart lake, pure, elegant, crystal like jade.
2
The chaotic days, always longing for a touch of fresh wind bath; messy thoughts, always longing for a clear and cool light cleaning.
Give the mind a piece of peace. Tonight, I will shake all the pent-up emotions one by one in front of you, let the golden wind blow away the floating dust above, spread out twelve portions of piety for you, waiting for your ethereal whisk one by one clear.
Feeling your temperature, listening to your footsteps through the aroma of curling flowers, very rhythmically from the blue cold shallow lotus pond, scooping up a round of gelatinous dew sprinkled on my body, at once, the world a cool.
Time passes in silence, second by second, and in the midst of the illusion, I seem to see a tiny soul slowly shedding its dusty shell, immortalizing itself into a holy white lotus, standing in an empty and clean starry sky.
3
The Milky Way is soundless, and the sound of your guizhao rowing across the waves makes my thoughts ripple, vivid in the direction you came from.
Did you come from the high slopes of the loess where the fragrance of the earth permeates? Did you come from the cabin where the candles reddened the night? Did you come from that case of light ink and dripping love paper?
If so, the flavor of the yellow earth must be full of the deep feelings of the season, otherwise, it would not be so strong; if so, the candle flower must have bloomed the romance of the night, otherwise, it would not be so gorgeous; if so, the ink paper must have folded layers of desire, otherwise, it would not be so thick.
Let a heart boat leisurely extradition, I will repeat rocking listening to the sculling paddle, so that sensitive ears gradually approach, that babbling murmur, that deep and shallow thoughts.
4
Since ancient times, sentimental, the mid-autumn always let the heart of the sentimental and exciting, and you always sow tears and laughter language and notes.
A bank of green willow cover jade, half a pond clear lotus flow fragrance. You Qian Qian broken step slowly moving, in the unremitting cycle of painting a round of earthly expectations of the round.
The ancient round of jade, the world of love. How many good stories, because you were born, how many emotions, according to you and send. The court scrolls, there is your jade shadow; grass field bamboo brief, there is your clear voice; desert frontier, there is your heroic section; alleys and lanes, there is your murmur. The tears of flowers have been splashed, the birds have cried, the wine cups have been soaked, and the brocade has been caressed. The mother has been looking forward to it, and the son has been counting it; the soldier has been looking at it, and the woman has been crying it.
Walking through the Tang poetry, the spring wind blew warm your charm; walking through the Song lyrics, the autumn rain drenched your sadness. But you have always guarded a belief, persistent and steadfast, pure and clean, calmly walking their own way, leaving a lonely to themselves, send a bright to others.
Tonight, you do not have sorrow, with a classical dignified and virtuous beauty, to the earth to show a thousand years of charm, to the loved ones in his hometown, to send a round plate of greetings, to send a full of blessings.
5
I look up into your light eyes, you are looking down to peer into my heart full of thoughts; I look down to pick up your jade fragrance, you playfully slipped away from my fingertips.
Tasting you as a poem, there is always endless charm; reading you as a painting, there is always endless interest.
Life is as fast as it is, and the light tea seems to lack some romance. I'll pour a bottle full of wine, let the red liquid like blood to soak your icy face, I'm in your shyness in the search for flat and narrow lines of poetry.
Tenderness is like water, and good times are like dreams. Tonight, listen to you walk through the bamboo forest, the music of the whirling dervishes, read your wandering flowers before the mottled silhouette, what else than your presence and happiness in their own lives?
The moon in the middle of the sky, you a wide sleeve long dance, a thousand osmanthus floating, in the wine overflowing sky, with a bunch of silver thoughts, for me to write a line line of poetry, for me to compose a melodious music, I understand, complete is the paradise of life, happiness is the heart of the friend.
Tonight, Prime a heart of sincere touching, eyeing your fading back, I sowed your name in the field of my heart, in the sweetness of cultivation in the coming year more vivid and successful Mid-Autumn Festival.
Mid-autumn night rain wet osmanthus flowers
Rutinous leaves full of Tingzhou, cold sand with shallow flow. I've been going to the South Tower for twenty years. The boat under the willow is not yet stable, how many days can it be? I'm not sure how many days I'll be able to make it to mid-autumn.
The Yellow Crane is broken at the top of the island. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good deal on this one. I want to buy osmanthus flowers to carry wine with me, but it's not like a young man's trip.
---Song - Liu Zong
Tonight there is no hope to look up to the bright moon. The rain is drizzling, giving the earth a wet dress, a cluster of osmanthus peeping under the thick green leaves, seems to lament the moon's invisibility, and can only give off a burst of fragrance to make up for this regrettable defect. "Once again, when I enjoy the moon, I sigh for the lack of light, and Chang'e in the clouds is also sad. Tears as cool night osmanthus rain, the wind curls through the sky fragrance."
In previous years, the golden wind season, I will climb the ochre mountain, pick up the steps, the path through the quiet place, there is a piece of osmanthus forest, where the silver laurel unreservedly towards the tourists to spit out the fragrance, do not invite favors, do not flatter the vulgarity, free and easy to open. The scene is, there are always a few people sneakily pick, put into a plastic bag, bring home. It is not said that "flowers can be folded straight must be folded, do not wait for no flowers empty branches" well? That is just to encourage us to grasp the fleeting opportunities, cherish youth and life. It is a good thing that most tourists frown upon this kind of behavior, so that we can retain a rich fragrance.
This year I spent the Mid-Autumn Festival in a foreign land. Fortunately, there is also a piece of osmanthus forest near my home, so I can smell the fragrance if I don't have the chance to enjoy the moon. After dinner, follow the fragrance and go, neon bleak autumn rain, where the osmanthus is blooming brilliantly, tourists come and go, whether it is also as I am generally full of expectations for it? The osmanthus tree is a symbol of noble, chaste, honor, friendship and good luck, where the career aspirations, soaring to the top of the people called "folding laurel". After the Han and Jin dynasties, people began to link the laurel and the moon, weaving the Moon Palace Wu Gang felled the laurel and many other beautiful legends, it is also known as "laurel", so the moon is also known as "Gui Gong", "Gui Pu ". The myth of "moon palace immortal laurel" gives the world endless reverie. In the process of long-term historical development, laurel has formed a profound cultural connotation and distinctive national characteristics.
When I was enjoying the osmanthus in Manjulong, Hangzhou, I was y attracted by the characteristics of both its clearness and its richness. Clear can be cleansing, thick can be far-reaching, so there is "nine miles of incense" of the name; yellow flowers as fine as corn, so there is "golden corn" of the name. She will also be as lovely and beautiful as her southern sisters in the North?
The rain is still seemingly if not sprinkled, "from the flying flowers light as a dream, boundless rain fine as sorrow", a thin curtain of rain wrapped around the emanation of a strong fragrance, the aroma stained with ethereal vapor, so that your sense of smell but become sharp, take a deep breath, usually not easy to distinguish the fragrance, at this moment very naturally entered the Nasal cavity, impact on the mucous membrane, after a chemical reaction, intoxicating, linger. It's like chocolate wrapped in shredded coconut, making your taste buds feel a whole new sensation.
Johann Strauss's "Vienna Woods" is playing on my mp3. I seem to be walking on the winding stone path, suddenly a lightweight carriage quickly came to the side, the driver invited me on board, a yell, the sound of hooves up, impact on the pebbles, splashing a spark, that car straight to the depths of the dense forest, fading away ...... trance there are fairy shu lead the way to a jade-like palace, has been unloaded the The hostess, about Chang'e, she leans lazily on the couch, low brow shallow convergence, starry eyes with anger, sleepy eyes, seems to blame the meaning of the late arrival of guests from afar. The maid brought a bottle of osmanthus wine (why not Wu Gang?) and urged me to drink it. The maid brought a bottle of osmanthus wine (why not Wu Gang?) and advised me to drink it all, but I couldn't refuse, and I was drunk on the temple in a moment. When I woke up, "I couldn't see the shadow of the painting bridge, and a piece of grief was paid to the broken string."
"The crows are roosting in the white trees in the courtyard, and the osmanthus flowers are wet with cold dew. Tonight, the moon is bright, I don't know whose home I'm thinking of in the fall." Tonight, the moon is not to enjoy, or listen to the sound of rain. Not far away there is a pond, after the scorching summer, the lotus leaves have been emaciated, while the autumn bamboo is flourishing, drops of rain crunching, superimposed wave far swing, "stay with the remnants of the lotus to listen to the sound of the rain" it, "from now on the rain you must remember to listen to the sound of the leaves of the Xiaoxiao hit" ah. Accompanied by the sound of rain drops residual lotus ticking, how many young expectations, how many youthful splendor, how many vicissitudes of memory surged to mind ......
This night did not invite to the reunion of Luan moon, and the fragrance of osmanthus and drops of rain crunching, but with the sense of smell and hearing feelings, completely make up for the loss of vision. Moreover, the Mid-Autumn Moon is not like Halley's Comet, which comes to patronize the earth only once every 76 years, we meet to look forward to her next year. "God closes a door here but opens a window there," Shinran.
Not original ha
But all the Mid-Autumn Festival beautiful article it
The above are segmented
Too long if there is another
Declare that I'm not copying the above
The moon is the hometown of Ming
Ji Xianlin
Everyone has a hometown, and there is a moon in everyone's hometown. Everyone loves the moon in their hometown. That's probably how things
are.
But if there is only one moon, it is a bit lonely. Therefore, in ancient Chinese poetry, the moon
always has something to accompany, the most is the mountains and water, what "high mountains and the moon", "three pools and the moon", and so on, can not be
numerous.
My hometown is in the northwest of Shandong on the Great Plains. When I was small, I never saw a mountain, and I didn't know what a mountain was.
I used to fantasize that the mountain was probably a round and thick pillar, the top of the sky, so powerful. Later, when I arrived in Jinan, I saw
the mountain, and realized that the mountain was originally like this! Therefore, I look at the moon in my hometown, never different from the mountain connection. As Su
Dong Po said, "The moon is out of the east mountain, hovering between the bulls", is completely unimaginable to me.
As for water, my hometown village has a lot of it. Several large reed pits accounted for more than half of the village area.
In my eyes as a child
, although not like the Dongting Lake, "August Lake level" as grand, but also quite a bit of smoke and misty situation.
Summer, after dusk, I lay on the ground in the courtyard by the pit and counted the stars in the sky. Sometimes it was easier to light a
campfire under an ancient willow and then go up a tree and shake it, and swarms of robins flew down, than it was to stick them with chewed-up grains of wheat during the day. I
enjoyed it every night, and every day I looked forward to dusk coming early.
At an even later hour, I walked to the edge of the pit and looked up to see a bright, clear moon in the clear sky, its clear light overflowing, mirroring
that of the moon in the water. I didn't know what poetry meant at the time, but I was quite happy with it, and there was something sprouting in my heart
. Sometimes I would play for a long time at the pit before going home to sleep. In my dream, I saw two moons stacked on top of each other, and the light was even more crystalline
clearer. The next morning, get up early, to the pit side of the reed bushes to pick up the ducks under the egg, white a flash, hand into the water
, a touch is an egg. At this time it is even more joyful.
I only stayed in my hometown for six years, and then I left my hometown and drifted to the ends of the earth. I lived in Jinan for more than ten years, spent four
years in Beijing, and then returned to Jinan for one year, and then lived in Europe for nearly eleven years, and then returned to Beijing, and now has been forty
years. During this time, I have traveled to nearly thirty countries around the world, and I have seen many, many moons. I have seen the moon in the beautiful scenery
Lake Lemmon in Switzerland, in the sandy African desert, in the blue sea, in the lofty
majestic mountains, I have seen the moon, these moons should be said to be fabulous, and I like it very much. But
It is that, when I see them, I immediately think of the little moon above the reed pits and in the water of my hometown. In contrast, no matter
how I feel, these big moons of the wide world are no match for my beloved little moon. No matter how many thousands of miles I traveled away from my
hometown, my heart immediately flew to it. My little moon, I will never forget you!
I am now in my eighties and nineties, and I live in Langrun Garden, which is a Yanyuan resort. To exaggerate a bit, this place has lush forests and bamboo, green
water flowing around, and a few earth mountains, dotted in between. The scenery is undoubtedly wonderful. A few years ago, I recuperated from Mount Lushan back,
An old friend who also recuperated in Mount Lushan came to see me. He saw such scenery, said with emotion, "You live in such a good place
Fang, but also to Mount Lu what to do!" It can be seen that Langrun Park gives people a deep impression. This place since there are mountains, water, trees, bamboo
, there are flowers, there are birds, every hope that the night, a round in the sky, the moonlight shining on the blue waves, up and down the sky, a blue hectare,
And the fragrance of the lotus far away, the host of birds chirping, can not help but say that it is a moonlit resort. The moonlight scene in the lotus pond, just outside my window.
Whoever comes here, can they still disregard it and enjoy it?
However, every time such a good time, I think of the small ordinary moon in the reed pit in my hometown.
Homesickness has become a frequent experience for me. The sickness of homesickness, I can't say whether it is bitter or happy, there are memories, there is disappointment, there is
Love, there is regret. The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this. The first time I saw this was when I was in the middle of the night, and I was in the middle of the night.
The moon is the hometown Ming, when I can see the moon of my hometown ah! I am looking at the southern sky, my heart is flying towards my hometown.
Autumn Thoughts from the Indian Ocean
Last night was mid-autumn. At dusk, the western sky hung down a large curtain of mica screen, masking the sunset tide of light, the sea and the sky into
dark blue, silent as the black nuns in front of the Holy Throne in silent prayer.
After a moment, that is to say, I heard the top of the boat on the canopy sobbing
, low-pressure clouds mixed with the color of the misty rain, will be forced to the sea line as narrow as a lake, along the edge of the black shadows, can not be recognized as a mountain
is the cloud, but the traces of tears, but full of water in the air.
Again, it was autumn! The sound of the rain in the rapid, there are scattered rusty flavor, even the gloomy atmosphere, just in
My soul whispered in the ear: "Autumn"! My original joyless state of mind, can not resist that gentle infiltration, but also open
Put the spring and summer between the accumulation of autumn thoughts, and at this time the foreign grievances of the composition of the merger, the output of a weak baby - "sadness".
The sky has long been dark and the rain has stopped. But the sobbing clouds are still loosely curtained in the sky, revealing only some white
shimmering light, foreshadowing that the bright moon is already fully loaded, waiting for the opening. At the same time, the ship smoke is being gulped, building a
Python scales of the long bridge, straight to the end of the western sky, and the ship out of the first class of green waves of white foam, up and down contrast, to stay in the west of the trail of the
The...
This is the first time I've ever seen a ship in the world.
North sky cloud curtain open, a bright emerald star, happy to come first to ask for news, like the new bride's maidservant, also dressed
dressed up all over the body colorful. But the bride has not yet come out.
When I was a kid, I used to sit outside the window of the building on Mid-Autumn nights and watch the "moon". If there were clouds in the sky, I
would be worried about the "shining moon". If you see the fish scale-like clouds, my heart will be happy and happy, praying for the moon
children to blossom soon, because I often heard people say that as long as there is a "corrugated" clouds, there will be the moon; but in the moonlight before the release of the color, my mother
parents have long been forced to go to bed, so the moon is just a never realized in my mind, an imaginary, until now, I have to go to bed. Until now.
Now the sky is filled with corrugated clouds, which suddenly bring back many funny memories of my early years - but where is my pure
childhood now!
Moonlight has a mysterious gravitational pull. She can make the sea waves roar, she can make tides of sorrow. The moonlight's sighs of relief can be gathered
into mountains, and the moonlight's tears of love can cultivate a hundred acres of orchids and a thousand stems of purple lengeng. I suspect that sadness is inherent in human beings,
otherwise, why do we not know the period of sadness for a few years, and sometimes, in the light of a lagoon, often tears of sadness?
But I do not shed tears tonight. It is not that there are no tears to be shed, nor is it that civilized education will hoe my purest instincts, but
for it is the feeling of divine sadness that excites the curiosity of my understanding, and I would like to learn from Cheikhut Baiden to dissect this mysterious "eyes
cold bones tired". The cold intellect is always the mortal enemy of the hot love. They are incompatible.
But to come and practice cold analysis on such a romantic moonlit night seemed unkind! So my mind turned,
repeat the sharp and quick intellectual drama, let the intoxicated tears of love flow naturally, listen to what music he produces, let the loving poetic soul roam
since the low back, to see what he seeks out the dream.
The bright moon was in the midst of the cloudy rocks, surrounded by a halo of yellow color, and a burst of light mist, tugging before her. The sea
Hundreds of undulating silver gullies, all together in the micro scolding mournful its syllables, in addition to not subject to the clear light of the wave domain, in the dark grave grave rises and falls,
I do not know whether it is a grudge or a moo.
I will be a part of their own emotions, into the phenomenon of nature, on the one hand, holding a pen and paper, looking at the moon, want to
from her bright and clean light, to see the traces of the autumn thoughts on the ground tonight, I hope that they are in my heart, condensed into a high and pure emotions of
Essence. Because of her bright short feet, this night all over the sky, the earth's enmity, which does not pass through her wise eyes?
There is a small village by the Ganges River in India. Outside the village, by the side of a banyan-flannel-embroidered lake, there sits a pair of drunken men and women, with an antique copper incense burner on the grass in between them, burning the finest water breath, and the gentle, gentle, smoky seal of love and
heat of the incense is a symbol of their love.
The moonlight from the clouds gently bent down on the beads in front of the woman's head,
Water breath on the end of the smoke, printed a kind kiss, slightly sun, repeat boarded her cloud boat, up to sail away.
On the upper floor of a courtyard, the curtains were not lowered, a few fat branches of tung leaves are swaying on the glass, the moonlight peeped
in the window of a small mosquito bed, purple net, sleeping a child like Angel, she gently next to her body, in his warm
soft eyelashes, tender peach-like cheeks, caressing for a while. And her silver fingers, straightened his umbilical cord round forehead hair,
Amiably slightly related, and went back to her sea of clouds.
A disappointed poet, sitting on a rock by the river, with a pensive look written on his face, the silhouette of his beloved, flowing like a river in
his breast, and he could not extract some slight sweet liquid from the dregs of his disappointment, he opened his arms and tilted his head,
letting the moonlight of the Great Mercy, which was passing by at that time, to bathe the swollen sockets of his tear ducts, and it seemed to him to feel the comfort of the clear heart. Qing Xin's comfort,
immediately felt out a pen and wrote on the white lapel:
Moonlight,
You are the nurse of the disappointed child!
The window-panes of a woodshed on the sea-facing side looked into the contents of the house: half a loaf of bread and a few strips of cold meat on a small table,
the remainder of supper, a household Bible open on a table in front of the window, two lighted candlesticks on the hearth-shelf, weeping uncontrollably,
and beside her sat a wrinkled-faced, hunched-over old woman, with both her eyes half-closed falling on a sobbing young woman, whose
long skirt was scattered on the floor like a large flower butterfly. The old woman turned her head to look out of the window, only to see the distant sea waves rising and falling, and the kind
moonlight embracing and honey-kissing, and she sighed and mouthed to the moonlight colors slanting over the Bible,
"How desperate! So desperate!"
She was alone in her elegant study, with all the lamps out, leaning on a wicker chair at the window, and the moonlight cascading down over the shoulder of the east wall, enveloping her whole body, and creating a slender silhouette on the flowery tiles, with her two braided tresses, her slightly
tantalized lips, and the magnolias standing tall in front of the court, all trembling in the still moonlight, and she added her breath. She exhaled a
fragrance, not only the neighboring flowers and grasses, even the moon smelled, can not help but be enchanted, her cheeks side of the natural wonderful swirls, has been for several
days not consummate: she lost weight. But what was she thinking of? Moonlight, will you take my dreaming soul and place it on a magnolia branch three or five
feet from her.
Near a mining deposit in the western border of Wales, three workers, with bulky pipes in their mouths, sat in the middle of the moonlight. All they could think of to say had been said, but the strange moonlight, on the pines opposite them, and on the stream at their left, added
an unspeakable charm, except that their eyes, which were weary with after-work, were not closed, and that they had smoked to-night, by mutual consent, two more pipes than usual
but their faces, blackened with the fires of the mines, and blackened with the coal, indicated the weakness of their minds, and the weakness of their hearts in the face of the mines, and in the face of the people, which were not so much in their minds. But their faces, blackened by the mine fires and blackened by the coals, indicated the weakness of their minds, and they could not feel the revulsion of exquisite emotion in the enjoyment of their pipes
outside of the sound of the streams of the autumn moon, though they were harsh. Waiting for the moon's shadow to move west some, they silently puffed
out a bucket of ash, got up and went into the house, each boarded the bed to sleep. The moonlight drifted in through the back of the house, and saw that they were all asleep;
if they dreamed at all, it was of nothing more than the view in and out of the mine!
Moonlight crossed the Irish Channel and climbed the peaks of Hailfleet Wood, right up to the silent Red Pool. The water was frozen like
a great mass of ice, iron-green in color. The sloping peaks around it were all covered with crab-green and egg-white rock fragments, and there was not a single low tree
. Along the pool between some grass, the whole situation, is like a large green bowl, now full of clean moonlight, quiet
, the grass does not hear the insects, the water does not hear the fish leap; only stone cracks in the submerged stream pattering sound, intermittent sound, as if a
cathedral lighted with a small star fire, and more contrast to the quiet quiet realm, the moon in the iron-colored surface of the pool, leaning on the tired half of
, repeatedly pulling up her
, and then the moon, the moon, and then the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, and the moon.
The moon leaned half a day on the iron-colored surface of the pool, repeated the drawing up of her silver slipper, and went over the hill.
Yesterday, after the ship left Singapore, the direction was changed from east to northeast, so that the first few days of the ship's tip was facing the setting sun, and since then
"the factory of the evening sun" has gradually moved to the left hand of the direction of our ship.
Last night after dinner on deck, the right side of the ship, a sea of silver waves, in the sharp contains a secret color, bleak
expression, caused me to stare. That put silver light orb is hanging over your head, such as its up against the bow of the ship to look up. She is
not very bright to-night: a veil of root-gray seems to be lightly covering her rounded features; a tone of sadness is lightly rippling;
a few traces of tearful mist are lightly staining her. She was not very bright, but her pure and gentle light, like the slanting glance of a young girl's light blue eyes; like the tender color of the spring sun melting in the reflection of the white clouds on the mountain tops, contained an inexplicable fascination, and a charming attitude, which all sensual beings in the world, when exposed to her clear light, reacted to, and also unfathomably, aroused the tension of a hidden inner realm,
and the tension of a hidden inner realm, like the strings of a piano, which, as in the case of a piano, are the strings of a musical instrument. --Like the strings of a lute, the most subtle emotions of life, the
impulses of the higher and newer creations of the halberd's life. Sometimes before the mental state, or at the same time, shaking the body's tissues, so that the feeling of the blood suddenly ice flow of ice
flow, the smell of the nerves can not help the acidity of pungency, the inner hidden surge of the beating, the tear ducts of the sudden heat and wet. That is the autumn moon rise of autumn thoughts
- sadness.
Last night's moonlight is the source of autumn thoughts, not only, straight is a symbol of sadness and melancholy, is the seasonal operation of the
We dramas in the most mysterious and the most natural scene, poetry and art is the most bleak and the most subtle a message.
Tonight the moon is bright and people are looking forward to it, I don't know in whose house the autumn thoughts are.
Chinese characters have a unique charm, and the structure of a few characters seems to me to be purely the work of the artist: this is
one of the most important aspects of our national culture. For example, the character "秋" is already an extremely beautiful glyph; the character "愁" is one of the masterpieces in the history of writing
; there is the beauty of the stone opening the lake, the wind sweeping the pine needles, a group of dots and paintings, the configuration, it is simply through the painting of the seal script of Corot
, the carving of the guigui of Gelangelo. Gelangelo's sculpture, Chopin's sense of God; like - to use a scientific analogy - the structure of an atom, the vigorous contraction of the rotating universe into an invisible, trackless nucleus; these thirteen strokes create a symbol that seems to be a symbol of the universe and of life.
The symbols created by these thirteen strokes seem to be the purest and most sophisticated crystallization of the tragic phenomena and experiences of Zeus and of life, of sighs and tears, filled with the secret
power of hypnotism. If you have a Gautier (Gautier) extraordinary sensibility, you can certainly dream that the word "sorrow" is transformed into a bright jade in the color of the autumn haze, and if you hit it with a silver mallet, it will spit out a silver phantom snake that seems to rise up into the clouds and the sky.
I am not looking for the moon in search of autumn, and even less for the search of new sorrows and visit the moon in autumn; deliberately immersed in a life of sorrow, is
Dande is not allowed. I cover the moon to feel the colors of autumn, and the window to feel new sorrows: man is a cluster of fragile and reflexive
nerves!
I repeat the view back to reality, lightly wrapped in the clouds of the autumn moon, like a veiled woman, her round and clear appearance like a bride, but at the same time the color of her power strings, which is lotus root grey, her hesitant heel, cover the traces of sobbing, and
make people suspected that it is the Lishu of the funeral.
This is why I said,
Autumn moon?
I do not look forward to your reunion.
This is the characteristic of the autumn moon, whether she is hanging in the sunset side of the new sickle, and "dusk and dawn" competing with the eyebrow hooks, in the
Night bucket did not have the western border of the Golden Bowl, nebulae between the silver bed, and even a round of full-bodied mid-autumn, regardless of the Jackson high and low, always in the original
To the clear and bright in the middle of the autumn, sprinkled with a kind of I can only call it "sadness. I can only call it "the light mist of sorrow" and "the ether of sadness".
Even if
you are not sad, you can't help but feel the "gray tones" and gradually get excited!
Autumn moon!
Who can't stand the silver fingertips
romantic scratching!
But look at the sea of light waves, not to be able to resist the caress of her finger, where the low wandering sob!
The clouds of boredom,
the beauty of the autumn moon,
warmed the heart of the cold eyes,
also coldly dressed in light onyx,
to participate in the
merciful marriage and funeral.