The grass by the green river, gently blown by the wind in the dusk, with your dots of sadness, telling me about the past. The following is the green riverside grass prose (selected 5) that I brought for you, welcome to read.
The green river grass prose Part 1
Petal rain, moon season red fall full of trails, busy two years, not online. Only for the rations running around, the dust settled, it was the former blogger friend encountered, at that time, he was keen on his solitaire, so that she had time to take into account, and cautioned not to give up halfway. She was speechless, but has been very hard to do, not to be responsible for people, try to do their best to be at peace with the heart.
I can not remember the day he met, just that day in the solitaire by chance, from this friend, he remembered in his heart. He told her that he never liked stringing, and did not love to criticize under others' blog posts, then she was the same as him. They exchanged for solitaire and Yijiangnan, gradually know that he is a teacher, and now changed his profession to go to Guangzhou, and now she does not know what he does, what his name is, he said that these are not important.
On the poetry, they discussed together, in the excitement of the occasion, she turned off the previous blog, came to a new place. And he stopped blogging from then on, disappeared from the blog network, and that's when he asked her for her phone number.
He is a watercress, she is a grass, they are both grass, and both of them are riverside, evergreen, the wind does not fall frost does not decay. He did not have any grandiose words, just send her a message every day, and she tends to ignore him, back to very few opportunities. Big belly he never cared, said, light friendship is the most long-lasting. When she asked him if he could believe in long-lasting friendship, he said, I do not say forever, just solid walk every step. Well said, the commitment can not be relied on, only to play a good foundation, layer by layer to build a solid, only to have a durable skyscraper. Simple words, but contains profound truth.
The maple red days again, they know a year, he still insisted on daily information, she still occasionally back, he is still the original style. Sometimes, she was puzzled that he was buried in his side, why he knew everything about her, he said no. When she was sad, he sent comforting messages. Made her feel not so lost." A slight smile when misunderstood is a kind of literacy; a frank smile when aggrieved is a kind of generosity; a happy smile when suffering a loss is a kind of openness; a self-deprecating smile when in a dilemma is a kind of wisdom; a dignified smile when helpless is a kind of realm; a dignified smile when in trouble is a kind of atmosphere; a smile that can calmly be laughed at when being scorned is a kind of self-confidence; and a soft smile when falling out of love is a kind of Shedding light." This message, which she kept, is my left and right motto, although I can not do all of them, but I will try to cultivate myself, to achieve a dignified and spontaneous.
"The world doesn't care about your self-esteem, all people see is what you've accomplished. Never overemphasize your self-esteem until you have achieved something!" The speech is very thorough and dripping." The winner is the king, the loser is the enemy!" It took a lot of experience to understand the deeper meaning of this. People only value the results, who cares about the hard work of the process. Pay the same amount of effort, perhaps sprinkled more sweat than the successful, and ultimately only a dazzling halo to attract people to sing, the process of natural people out to summarize, and the losers are just a martyr.
She is a person who has suffered, lost, know that miss the bone pain, but also know the fate of the shoulder no longer remorse. For once negligence she silently punished herself, living an isolated life. A few years of spiritual cultivation, realize all kinds of life, especially for the amazing people, but also the mind is clear. A year she went to Guizhou somewhere, climbed the mountains of the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau, in front of the Buddha's door silently promise, if this life again meets a good fate, it will no longer turn a blind eye to cherish the hard-won, with its hands to the driving crane to the west. Do not ask for snow and wind and flowers, only for a lifetime of true love, so that she relies on the thick shoulders to go on, no longer fear, no longer experience heart-rending pain. Maybe she is too naive, where in the world there is such love? But she did not believe, believe that the world where the true love, perhaps they have not met it! In this regard, he has been encouraging her, love can be romantic, but can not be wasted, do not casually hold hands, and do not casually let go, she engraved in the heart of the journal.
"It is always painful when fantasy and reality face each other, either you are knocked down by the pain, or you have to put the pain under your feet!" People, every stage of life is pregnant with beautiful ideals, once beyond the reality, it becomes an unattainable fantasy. When the two collide, it is inevitable that pain arises, how to face the pain, either decadent sinking, or new life in the pain. Each person's path of growth, can not always be sunny, inevitably encountered storms, baptized by the storm, in order to step through the thorns, embrace that a brilliant rainbow.
These are sent by him, no matter where the source, but he is from different channels to collect life and work related anecdotes, so that she, the forgotten person to share. Today he sent a few more funny material, she asked him to post the information sent to the blog later to witness how long this friendship. He said, those are from the Internet search, see his a good intention, just to not let her life melancholy.
She did not ask his name, the real friendship without knowing so much detail, he will continue to be invisible after the bar, nameless friends, just for acquaintance.
The green river grass prose Part 2
A
In the red dust drifted most of his life. When I was young, I always wanted to escape from this poor mountainous place, I can't imagine, after decades of going home to visit my family, to the time of parting, eventually with tears, do not give up the old mother on the sick bed, do not give up the countryside of the grass and trees, as well as the glossy turquoise green as jade green grass. The river flowed slowly from the side, jumping my love silk, plucking my heart strings.
The grass is green, my heart crystal, the dew on the grass, cool as spring water, through the sweetness of the sweet, I always mischievous fingers gently touch the sunshine crystal. My nails are tender, white and red, I often look at my nails like this, my mother, as soon as she is free, she will use fine scissors, along with my crescent-shaped nails, carefully cut into a curved moon.
The dewdrops on the grass, the surplus is my manna. The book ink ink, poetry curls, cattle in the gap, I lie in the youth of the river bank, repeated reading Li Bai's "bed in front of the bright moonlight, suspected of frost on the ground, looking up at the moon, low thinking of his hometown". Just such a poem, let me y impressed; just such a poem, let me remember a lifetime; just such a poem, let me sigh the pain and lingering love of the countryside.
The cows are leisurely eating the tender grass, the big mouth reveals the reddish-brown long tongue, the tongue from time to time out, lick the sweet and sweet stream water. The turquoise jade-like stream flows quietly, sometimes turbulent, sometimes slow. Its sound, wonderful as a wind chime, gentle as a flute, as if both, and as if not exactly, then why its song is so familiar to me? The river is wide, and often fishermen hold up a small fishing boat, singing the unique high-pitched voice of country men passing by. The rocks in the river, standing in twos and threes, diverge from time to time from the oncoming stream, turning into a whirlpool.
The river has a variety of fish, and folks often bring their young grandchildren here to fish. In the spring, the rain pattered incessantly, the river gradually rose, the older elders are carrying a back wisp, holding a long bamboo fishing rod, the rod head hangs on a white line, the line tied with a fish hook, hooks inserted in the earthworms, seated on the grass. The river is very fertile, so in a short while, there are big carp on the hook.
At that time, I was in junior high school, the third sister is reading elementary school, cute and naughty, a rush to the river after school, threw the bag to my side, like a thirsty fish on the bank, towards the river darted away, sunk, suddenly disappeared, scared me to look towards the river, a short while later, she was like a mermaid hibiscus out of the water, my heart a little bit more secure, they yelled: "Third sister, be careful, don't play too long." The third sister did not seem to hear my persuasion, like a small frog, with her flexible and athletic body, weaving in and out of this green clear and transparent, beautiful and warm river water.
Two
The river, rushing endlessly, bypasses mountain after mountain. It is our lifeblood, our patron saint, our 'mother river.
In summer, there were especially many clothes to wrestle. My mother took me, carrying two large baskets of clothes, squatting by the river, wrestling again and again. The mother's hand, has been a lot of calluses, flowed a lot of blood. She will be a basket of clothes all poured on the white smooth stone has been wrestled countless times, will be a piece of clothing quickly in the river over the water, repeatedly wash a few times, then pick up the heavy wooden stick, according to the clothes from top to bottom of the grain, like chopping meat as fast and accurate. Mother dressed very plain, a gray blouse and a pair of black pants, this outfit, I do not know how many times in this river tumbling, just like the mother in the years of suffering struggled many times; this outfit, I do not know how many times on the riverbank wrestling, just like the mother in the period of the Great Tribulation in order to read for the children's lives by the impermanent destiny of how many folds; this outfit, I do not know how many times the mother in the middle of the night, when everyone fell asleep, and she was still under the kerosene lamp. And she is still under the kerosene lamp sewing how many times, just like the mother told himself must hold out until the child to go to college.
For a long time, I carried my little brother to school. This is my mother's last child, at that time, my mother is almost forty, the farm work is busy, can only leave my little brother to me.
The morning wind blew up and hit the face, moist air, let me meditate on the dawn of the family smoke curls, more let me look forward to crossing the rickety bridge that stretches across the river. As I hummed along, I soon smelled the aroma coming from the chimney, the distinctive aroma of rice pudding in the countryside. Usually, when I go to the mountains to cut wood, it is half a day, over a mountain range, around every kind of forest, holding a sickle that has been sharpened many times, and cutting as hard as I can, my whole body is covered with sweat, as if I have taken several baths, but those baths are salt baths, and my head, eyes, and waist are all full of body salt. At this time, my mouth was dry as if it were on fire, and it was about to split open. It was hard to find a family to ask for a bowl of rice porridge to drink, and immediately, as if from hell to heaven, my throat was much cooler. This is my deep affection for rice porridge. Until now, my body is flowing with the "blood" of rice porridge, and I can't eat anything else, and when I eat it, I get diarrhea, but this rice porridge, which I have been drinking for more than sixty years, allows me to extend my life to the present.
The sky turned over its white clouds, orange sunshine sprinkled the sky, I walked to the small bridge. The dark green was deep, the stream was babbling, and birds were chirping and cicadas were singing. I don't know how to swim like my third sister, much less have the courage to jump into the river to play. Every time I walked across this bridge, I was terrified. The bridge is made of rope handrail, below the rope string a piece of wooden board, walking, wooden boards "squeak" "squeak" sound. The place where there is flowing water, the more lush grass, the more beautiful song of the birds, I do not know from when, the fragrance of the flowers, but also from the deep valleys leisurely floating, the ducks of the farmers, also in groups from the small bridge under the swim through.
This is where the fragrance of flowers ah? In which valley? Looking at the time is still early, I walked across the bridge with difficulty, toward the depths of the forest. Traveled to the water, but saw the mountains of camellias in the wind smiling and nodding. Flowers of thousands of colors, red, yellow, white, pink, like those mythological fairy sister, dressed in various colors of water-sleeved long dress, singing heavenly songs, from the heaven and earth at the watery blue pools fluttering. Those slightly curled petals, as if they are different dance, some soft, some unrestrained, some subtle, some sentimental. Secretly sent to the full of autumn waves, so that the heart and soul swing. From then on, every day across the bridge, as long as the smell of the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers, imagining that they were then shy and unrestrained look, the heart of the fear is reduced by a few points.
Three
Now, the hometown is not the original hometown. The wide river, became narrow; that such as jasper luster, has been categorically faded a few points; clear jade body, stained with black sewage and garbage. The river, missing the fisherman's trace, missing calves, ducks, and also missing when the three sisters in the river swim in the west string of the happy figure, and even more missing the back of the mother in the river wrestling clothes and I herded cattle cozy happy.
Now, the swaying wooden bridge has been replaced by a white concrete bridge, people no longer need to cross the river with fear; both sides of the river stand up a variety of high-rise buildings, no longer in the past the mud billet houses.
There is loss, there must be gain. People live the life of a city dweller, mountain delicacies, birds and animals, is the table of the "regular"; TV, computer, refrigerator, washing machine has long been the villagers commonly used home appliances; highway in all directions, the top of the flying all kinds of foreign cars, domestic cars; well-off life has been close to the countryside of life.
Lost, can not be retrieved, but get the precious. The environment has deteriorated, but the rural people are still retained in the last generation of simplicity and beauty, left behind, there will be that flowery imprint. I believe that, in the near future, my hometown will usher in the urbanization process again and again, when the river again from this end of the river to the other end of the river, when the river again overflowed the river, when the blue water once again reflecting the blue sky, when the critters and the river swimming happily, when people can play in the river, then, my hometown will be a new hometown, an inheritance and the hometown of the sky has changed.
How I wish that my old mother in her hospital bed could see all this, and how I wish that our next generation could come back and see the hometown where our grandparents lived, how simple and beautiful it is.
Green river grass prose Part 3
I followed a small stream, all the way to the north, I do not know where the end of the river? I was at a loss for words, just stupid and dumb along the river all the way north.
For eighteen years, there has been a voice in my head urging me to "keep walking along this river, you will get everything you want", and in fact, for more than ten years, I have been doing just that. However, I've been walking along the river for more than a decade, so accidents do happen.
After the passage of time, everyone more or less through the baptism of the years more mature, stable. But this does not seem to include me, because I am the time of the "prisoner", I was eliminated by their own, so I am like an alien, standing outside the circle, confused and overwhelmed, still walking along the river, watching the passing ships, sailing quickly, but can only be watched that way, and feel the helplessness of the moment, the kind of deep powerlessness, like a worm, tearing his heart out. Like a worm, tearing the heart and lungs of the torture of the heart of a thousand holes.
Yes, that deep sense of powerlessness. "I'm not sure if I'm a good person, but I'm a good person, and I'm not a good person. But sometimes think more and feel ridiculous, the river run that is not grass? To not as quiet as a "do not want to forge ahead, greedy for comfort" grassroots class, in fact, quite good. There are no big storms and waves, the days are comfortable and leisurely, the body and mind can be liberated, perhaps you can live to 999? The words are so, but I still all the way to the north, seems to be looking for the lost what, everything has no end.
Green river grass, I went down the stream, all the way to the north, with the heart.
Through the mountains and mountains, nine curves and eighteen bays, many pedestrians on the road, walking in company, but the end can not make a partner, just because the pace is too slow to keep up with the rhythm. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to do to help.
The scenery along the way is beautiful and inviting, but I seem to have lost more, the scenery along the creek is still the same, but unfortunately things have long been different. In the beautiful scenery in the fall, in the scenery along the way to linger, quietly lost the goal, lost the ideal. I don't want to pay attention to those mundane, and I want to be immortalized, and I don't want to be free from the world.
Perhaps this is the so-called life, life has never abandoned the people, just their own abandoned themselves.
Remember the days when we were together? On the green river, we held hands, I gently said to you, darling, I will love you for life. You lifted your head slightly and looked into my eyes, and you said you believed in me and would stay with me until I grew old and then died together. Then we embraced each other tightly, and from behind you, I saw the wind blowing your long hair, fluttering in the green grass, and the little river singing joyfully. You picked two green grasses and said to me you want to have the present, you don't want to lose it, you want the green grass, you want the river, you want us to be together forever. Then you wept, and the tears hit my coat, and I kissed your tears dry, and smiled and said to you that it would be.
Eight years have passed and I am back here, but where are you? The green grass is only my lonely back, looking at the familiar and unfamiliar everything in front of me, without your flying long hair, without your tears, without your naive face, I can not hear my heartbeat. The wind is still blowing, carrying your voice from eight years ago, blowing to my ears, gently telling me that it will stay with me until I grow old and then die together. I took out the long withered grass and gently said to the wind, I will love you for the rest of my life, but I hope the wind can carry my words to heaven, and then gently tell you that I am still here waiting for you. The green grass, the clear river, are here waiting for our return, but why can't you come back with me? Didn't you say? We'll grow old together and die together, but why can't you wait for me? And it took so long for them to pass on the news that you had been gone for so long, do you know that so many days and nights away from you, you were the driving force for me to live, at every juncture of life and death, it was you who gave me the courage to live, because I wanted to come back again, to come back here again, with my prospects, with my achievements, with my unchanged heart, to come back to the grassy meadows, to come back to the river, to take your hand again, to embrace you again and to watch you long flowing hair, kiss your tears dry. I don't care how much longer I have to wait, I just want you to come back, I don't want my future anymore, I don't want any more accomplishments, I will even trade everything I have for spending forever with you. I'm really wrong. Why do I want a future? Why do I want achievements? If I lose you, I will lose the whole world. I am really wrong. A person who has lost the world will still have a future. I am really wrong, I don't leave you, I know how fragile you will be after leaving me, how easy to be hurt, but I still left, to pursue the so-called future, to pursue the so-called achievements. Fourteen-year-old you, with that defiled body, holding the grass you left behind in your hand, floated down from the six-story building, leaving behind only a suicide note filled with grief and anger. You said you would love to put your head on my shoulder by the creek and cry once more before leaving this world. However, I was not at your side, but you know what? I don't care what your body is like, it's not your body I'm in love with, it's your heart, you shouldn't have left me, you shouldn't have done this to me, at least you have to give me a goal to pursue ah? Even if it is a hundred years, as long as I know you still exist, I will wait, in the green grass, in the small river, guarding our eternity, guarding this piece of only belongs to us, I will silently wait for you, until you come.
But now you want me to do? I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'm going to do what I'm going to do. I don't want to believe all this, I don't believe that you will not keep your promise, you didn't accompany me to old age, and then die together. You went alone, and after so long to tell me the news that you went, the rest of the old scene, the protagonist in which only I, all this still have meaning?
The grass by the green river, in the dusk by the wind gently blowing, with your point of worry silk, to me about the past, I vaguely heard you say, everything you remember before, and I together to old age, and then die together, you said you were there waiting for me, waiting for me to stay with you, forever.
She is a nameless and unnoticed grass; she grew next to a small pond, seems so inconspicuous, but she is not alone, because there are countless grasses like this next to the people accustomed to call her green riverside grass.
"Green riverside grass, long days are not old, wildfire can not be eliminated, the wind and rain blowing down" green riverside grass, she exudes a burst of fragrance,
Although she did not have roadside wildflowers as colorful, but also not as tall as the aspens, but her kind of "wildfire can not be eliminated, the wind and rain blowing down", she is not alone, because there are countless such grass, people used to call her for the green river.
A crisp green grass, an ounce of vitality. Green riverside grass, grass tips and even a little water droplets, the grass tip of a drop of spring water, ice cold, through the sweet as sweet, slowly flowed out of the curve of a crystal clear.
I couldn't help but touch each green river grass with my hand, and the slippery feeling brought a little bit of comfort to my fingers. Not long ago, a cow "moo" called from a distance over, perhaps and the owner is separated or other reasons, it just "moo" and moo and scurry around.
Finally, the cow seemed to be thirsty, and it went to the small pond. The cow stepped into the center of the pond, and it seemed to enjoy the temperature of the pond, as it flicked its tail and splashed the water, which in turn splashed down onto the grass, forming little drops of water, and then flowing out in a beautiful curve.
"The grass on the green riverbank, and the long-distance road is thought of. The faraway road cannot be thought of, but I dreamed of it in the past. I dreamed of seeing it in my neighborhood, and suddenly realized that it was in his hometown ......" This is a Han Lefu poem "Drinking Horse Great Wall Grotto Line", which translates roughly like this: the river is covered with lush green grass, which can be seen from a long way away by people going out, and which unconsciously evokes the poet's sheepish thoughts of missing the faraway people. If the grass can evoke a person's thoughts, then perhaps the grass growing by the pond can evoke a person's feelings.
"Wildfire is inexhaustible, spring breeze blows again." The vitality of the river grass is tenacious, no matter the wind and rain, no matter the spring, summer, fall and winter, she always silently grows in the pond next to the pond, she is like a pond guardian, firm and upright in their positions.
The path of the green river grass is winding, but her future is full of light. With only the thin barren and damp soil, she wrestled with fate and fought with the stubborn stones, and after a tenacious struggle, she finally brought hope and showed up in the bright world.
"No flowers, no tree high, I am a small grass that no one knows ......" humble identity, no pungent flowers, no tall and straight body, no strong and powerful body, and no colorful colors, but her that strong and unyielding spirit of my tenacious vitality, which is the grass, growing in the river grass.
Green riverside grass, she can't enjoy the nourishment of fertile soil, can't feel the fragrance of the flowers, and can't appreciate the magnificence of the grassland. However, she has a tenacious vitality, she is not afraid of people's trampling, she is so silent tripod in the pond next to, perhaps at this moment, she is talking to their friends and relatives what?
Green river grass, she may not be the most tenacious, but her spirit is very worthy of our affirmation, to learn. As a young geologist, we should have the kind of "wildfire, wind and rain blowing not down" spirit, do not give up, do not give up, for the country to make some contribution to the best of our ability.