Snow soul
The sun is shining, and the unique tranquility and serenity of the plateau reverberates in the first snow in Yuan Ye. The purity of the blue sky extends a mysterious smile and vastness. No ups and downs of confrontation, no nostalgia for the green in life. Guangyuan after the snow is comfortably rolling up the magnificent melody of the Yellow River.
Snow is a higher level of pure original appearance after the free change of thousands of colors in nature. The scene of snow always shows us an endless look back. When the green Yuan Ye presents endless competition and removes all the impetuosity and noise in winter, it will open this infinite curtain in due course, and the returning nature will sing a lullaby in gentle flight.
I think that the earth covered by clouds is covered with boundless snow, and thousands of lives have lost their activities, their self-expansion and their arrogance. When the white theme of the universe is mentioned, the world of ice and snow echoing between heaven and earth shows its vastness to the fullest. In this selfless and helpless world, people can only feel the unique favor given by God in the air that flies respectfully.
In the vast universe, all the mountains disappeared in the snow and fog. I can only hear the sound of goose feather-like snowflakes colliding with each other and scrambling to cover the earth. Only vilen, which has been silent for too long, echoes the vast and tragic spirit in the falling snow sky. However, in a vast expanse of white land in the west, a huge silvery belt winds through the vast expanse of white land. The desolate and cold land in the west is vigorously stretched. This is the mother river of our Chinese nation-the Yellow River.
Looking at the Yellow River in other seasons, there is only the vicissitudes of yellow land, and the eternal footsteps of the Yellow River are moving towards the East with a heavy burden. After the flood, the barren land of disappointment will have infinite vitality and hope. Especially when a person walks in a deserted wilderness, the nearby paradise is always telling you the tragic and sighing of history.
Now, in the vast land of heavy snow, when the great white covers all disputes and confrontations, in the great loneliness of heaven and earth, a feeling of helplessness and fear after receiving severe warnings from God is slowly covering the whole body. However, the Yellow River boldly drew a beautiful and vivid curve on clean land. -The Yellow River in the snow wrote a generous song for us.
Without the Yellow River flowing in Yuan Ye in the snow, loneliness will make us lack strong confidence in the cold. Such a long winter will dry up the yellow land forever. If the snow field is pale, the eyes of hope will have nowhere to stay.
The snowy winter has left too many whispers to the Yellow River, which is just wrapped in silver and waiting for the rich fruits of the Ming Dynasty.
The grandeur of the Yellow River can only be seen in winter after the west is strong. It is the shining and pioneering spirit of the Yellow River and the beautiful and calm face on the other side of the island in the long winter.
The heavy snow in the west is too desolate in the fierceness, and only the flow of the Yellow River adds endless elements of struggle to this disappointed and indignant landscape. The Yellow River is the mother of the west, but in the snow, in the lonely and helpless struggle, the Yellow River has become the real soul of the snowy plain in the vast snowfield.
Without snow, we can fight the Yellow River and feel the magnificence of Chinese civilization for thousands of years. When there is snow, we write a hymn for the soul of ice and snow-the Yellow River. When the white earth after snow shows too much loneliness, the Yellow River will lengthen the main theme of life. It will melt the rich historical customs of the western regions into the surging Yellow River water, turn it into the historical motive force flowing eastward, inject it into the blood of Chinese sons and daughters, and glow with infinite vitality for the re-emergence of the Chinese nation tomorrow.
Fantasy about snow
Siberian wind
The season that brings light rain and flowers.
In this northern winter
I'm in the snow
Wandering alone
A gloomy day
Browse the sad space
Going to the season again
The last reincarnation
Today, the town finally waited for another long-awaited snowfall.
Butterfly-like snowflakes dance gently, bringing the unique scenery of this season. She came lightly, she came slowly, and she came without makeup and gauze. This winter's elves have come to dress up our world. Can winter be called winter without snow?
Wherever her skirt goes, the snowy plain is as quiet as a virgin, the snowy peaks are cold, the Yushu Qionghua is in full bloom, and the air is particularly gentle. Under her gentle comfort, all the restlessness began to subside, and the earth was quiet and peaceful, just like a baby sleeping in its mother's arms. In this world of silver makeup, this dazzling whiteness eclipses the sky. In this quiet white, what impetuous worries are we unable to let go?
When our restless hearts calm down, we can feel how colorful the falling snowflakes are. What kind of flowers in the world can be as atmospheric as snowflakes? What kind of flowers can be as chic as snowflakes? "Like the strong wind in spring, it blows at night and blows open the petals of ten thousand pear trees"-this is the brilliance of snow; "Northland scenery, thousands of miles frozen, Wan Li snow floating, looking at the inside and outside of the Great Wall, and I am boundless, the river rises and falls, I lost the surging"-this is the spectacular snow; "The window contains autumn snow in Xiling, at the gate of Wu Dong Wan Li boating"-this is the beauty of snow; "Wind and rain send spring home, flying snow welcomes the spring. It is already a cliff full of ice, and there are beautiful flowers "-this is the romance of snow; "There are no birds in a hundred mountains, and there are no footprints in a thousand paths"-this is the loneliness and seclusion of Xue. In fact, what I like best is "there is a ray of green in the old bottle and a trace of red in the quiet stove;" It feels like snow outside at dusk. How about a glass of wine inside? " This artistic conception. Two old friends, sitting around a small red stove in a thatched cottage with low clouds at dusk, asked questions in a warm and concerned voice. It's just that in today's society, although there are many wines, there are few stoves and bosom friends are hard to find. This artistic conception is even more difficult to appreciate.
I came to the suburbs alone, and in the vast snowfield, I reduced myself to a small black spot between the boundless world and stopped quietly here. If we regard this snowfield as a world, then we are countless snowflakes scattered by God. Like falling snowflakes, we are sent to this world by the wind of fate. Looking back, there was no trace of patrol. We lie down where we fell, waiting for the wind of fate to send us to another place again, or waiting for another snowflake to fly, and then quietly melt into invisibility. Just as there are no two identical snowflakes, there are no two identical people in the world. So, where is the other snowflake that we know and have a heart?
Looking around blankly, what is colder than the weather in early winter is loneliness, which comes from all directions and penetrates my heart. In this cold silence, a warm voice gradually rises from the bottom of my heart:
Is it snowing there?
Are you afraid of cold?
Is there a fire to warm your hands?
Can a smile fill your home?
Is it snowing there?
Are you afraid of loneliness?
Do you want to hear a sweet word from me?
Shall I leave you a snowflake?
Walking in the snow to see plum blossoms [1]?
It became a fairy tale in my dream.
Petals flying
My long hair is flowing.
Pick a flower and leave my eternal concern.
Accompany me to travel around the world in the coldest day.
I think this is the most beautiful song in the world, which contains many strong emotions, including missing, caring, worrying and hoping for my lover. Accompanied by singing, there is also a feeling of giving up. In this life, can I find my other snowflake? Can I still hold hands and sing this song to her? Who can accompany me to travel around the world on the coldest day?
Seeing snowflakes flying like butterflies, I suddenly felt infinite sadness in my heart. Just like a broken cocoon butterfly, how painful is it for a drop of water to condense and crack into a beautiful snowflake? How many hardships does life have to go through to be more sophisticated and brilliant?
It is expected to snow.
I don't like winter, because I hate the cold and heavy winter.
I don't like winter, because I hate the gray sky and the sleeping earth;
I don't like winter, because I hate closed doors and windows and heavy clothes;
But one thing, I must admit, I like snow.
Some people say that snow is the purest in the world because it is so white and flawless;
Some people say that snow is the dirtiest in the world because it is full of impurities.
I don't want to analyze who is right or wrong, because I like snow, whether it is pure or dirty.
I often wonder what kind of creator created such beautiful and lovely snowflakes.
I think he must be a naughty angel, or she is a beautiful fairy.
I often guess that whenever someone makes a wish, God will make a snowflake.
When people's wishes come true, God will release these snowflakes.
Therefore, snowflakes will always fly, from the sky to the ground.
It flies because it is the bearer of wishes;
It can fly, because it's a wish come true.
Standing at the window, I made a wish.
Then, I will always wait quietly and look forward to the snow that belongs to me.
Looking forward to a snow,
I think, before long, God will definitely give me the biggest and most beautiful snow.
Looking forward to a snow,
I hope,
I'll wait.
Rain always falls in the south of Miaolan, Hanshan Temple in Gusu, Xidi Village in Huizhou, the light and shadow of Qinhuai River, and the soft waves of Fuchun River, wetting bamboo leaves, rice leaves, lotus leaves, willow leaves, fish scales, oil-paper umbrellas, bird shelters, Qingshiqiao Bridge, Hengshan Mountain, Lushan Mountain, Emei Mountain, Yandang Mountain, Hongze Lake, Taihu Lake, etc. Cold rain at night, Wu, autumn pool rain at night-this is the rain in the south. In the drizzle of Xinghua Village in March in the south of the Yangtze River, the sweet and tactful Huangmei tune reminds people of the cooking smoke and pastoral songs in their hometown in the south, and the sweet Huangmei opera in Huang Meiyu.
Snow boundary
Li Hanrong
A night of heavy snow reappears everything in the world. The world has become a white palace. Crow white, dog white, black coal white. The tomb has also turned white, and the raised piles no longer make people feel desolate, but look beautiful and meaningful. The quiet arc and slightly upturned posture make people feel that the land has the desire to stand up at any time. The falling and thickening snow makes it look like a bird lying on its back. It is combing and spreading its white wings, and it will fly to a mysterious direction at any time.
Snow fell on the ground, on rocks, on branches, on the roof and in the expected place. Snow is taking care of the dry land and our dry life. Snow fell all over our field of vision. Finally, the snow fell on the snow, the snow was still falling, the snow was moved and intoxicated by its whiteness, the snow fell in its arms, and the snow fell asleep in its arms.
Walking in the snow, we stopped talking. Snow spreads language in the sky, telling the ancient language. The snow in the sky is also the snow on the ground. There is no boundary between the sky and the ground. We are people on earth and gods in heaven. The snow in the Tang Dynasty has not melted so far and will never melt. The thickest snow is preserved in poetry. The snow that fell in my hand melted, reminding me of the love handed down from generation to generation. I really want to go to the clouds to see how this hexagonal flower is pushed away by the cold. What was her expression at the moment she spoke? Did she fall vertically or obliquely? Is she dizzy and scared when she walks down from such a steep and high sky? From water to fog, from fog to flowers, this life-and-death process, this touching miracle! The weak and great spirit came to the world of mortals after a long journey. This one and the other fell on my eyelashes, and there are many others. Were your previous lives my tears? You found my eyes and you want to give them back. You have melted into my tears, and they are still my tears. Nothing will die except birth. Jingweihai is still brewing salt for us, and the wine glass is still Li Bai's wine, Li Bai's moon. As always, the river pushes ancient stones, and we can find the same handwriting on any stone. Last year or a long time ago, I collected the well water of your figure and mine. Look up, every snow is dropping the information you gave me. The unknown snowman you created in the distant wilderness is me in the afterlife ... I dare not look at the snow. All I see are homeless and pure souls. I close my eyes, sit in the snow, listen to the snow quietly, listen to myself quietly, the snow falls beside me, the snow takes me up, I become snow, there is nothing but snow, and the universe becomes a piece of white snow. ........
The only day when God is not needed is when it snows. Heaven and earth are white churches, white worships white and white praises white. You don't need a savior, white liberates all the fallen colors. No need for an enlightener. Bai has enlightened and answered everything, and Bai's language tells the most solemn touch of the soul. There are always bright candles on the top of the highest mountain. I can vaguely see that there are higher peaks in the distance from the top of the mountain. Higher peaks are still snow, and they are still great snow peaks that we can never climb. In the days without God, I saw more signs of God. All distances seen by spiritual eyes are sacred distances, waiting for us to arrive. When we arrived, we really found ourselves, so we set off again.
The only day when you don't need love is when it snows. So many white scarves float to you, you don't know which one to cherish. Such ethereal gestures, such soft words, such pure promises. I don't care about the love from heaven, and I don't care about the love from the road. This reminds me of those daughters who have been made of water through the ages, all for love, from scratch and from scratch. They came and transformed the low hut into a simple paradise. The cold wind and the swishing canyon filled with tenderness and turned into a quiet corridor. They are gone, they are running on the sea, calling our names and village names in the waves, roaming in the clouds and looking after our lives in the high sky. They are our atmosphere, rain and snow.
The only time you don't need to write poetry is when it snows. There are pure poems floating in the air and scattered on the ground. The tree's pen is quietly held. It wanted to write a poem, but it was moved by it. I don't know what it was. So I stood quietly in the snow, standing in the poem, as if to say: pen is redundant, in front of the pure poem of the universe, there are no poets, only people who read poems; Those who don't read poetry, only poetry; In fact, there is no poetry, only snow, only endless tranquility and endless innocence. ...........