The rain gradually lived, behind the curtains of the window vaguely through the clear light to. Push open the window and look, ah! The cool clouds have dispersed, and the residual drops on the leaves, reflecting the moon, look like a thousand points of fluorescent light, flickering and moving. --I never thought that after the bitter rain and lonely lamp, there would be such a beautiful picture! Standing by the window for a while, slightly feel the coolness invade. When I turned around, I was suddenly dazzled and confused. Everything else in the room was hidden in the light clouds; there was an ethereal glow, and only An Qi'er in the painting on the wall was immersed in it. --The white-robed An Qi'er, holding a flower table and raising her wings, smiled faintly at me.
"This smile seems like I have seen it there before, when did I ever ......," I thought, sitting under the window without realizing it, -- silently.
Zhu Ziqing (朱自清) White Water Festival
Some friends accompanied me on a tour of the White Water Festival.
It was also a waterfall; but it was too thin and too fine. Sometimes there is a flash of white light; when you look at it, there is none -- just a cloud of smoke. Once upon a time there was the so-called "fog hu2", probably this is so. So, all because of the rock in the middle of a sudden empty section; water to there, no basis, flying down the emptiness, they pulled thin and thin. When that empty space, the most miraculous. The white light is transmuted into flying smoke, and is already a shadow; sometimes it is not even a shadow. Sometimes the breeze comes over, with a delicate hand to hold the shadow, it will curl into a soft arc; but her hand just let go, it is like a rubber band, and immediately shrink back. I therefore suspect that there is another pair of unknowable hands that are trying to weave these shadows into a web of illusion. The breeze is trying to take it away from her, how can she?
There may be temptation in the web of illusion; my attachment is the oldest evidence of it.
Three, one six, nimbus made.
These days have been quite uneventful. Tonight, while sitting in the yard, I suddenly remembered the lotus pond that I had walked by day after day, and in the light of the full moon, it should have a different look, right? The moon is gradually rising, the wall of the road on the children's laughter, can not be heard; wife in the house, patting the leap, humming in a daze sleep song. I quietly put on my great shirt and went out with the door closed.
Zhu Ziqing, "Moonlight in the Lotus Pond"
Along the lotus pond is a small, winding road of coal chips. This is a secluded road; few people walk during the day, and the night is even lonelier. On all sides of the pond, there are a lot of trees growing luxuriantly. On the side of the road were some willows and some trees whose names were unknown. On nights when there is no moonlight, the road is eerie and a bit scary. Tonight, however, it was fine, although the moonlight was still faint.
I was alone on the road, pacing with my hands behind my back. It was as if this part of the world was mine; it was as if I had gone beyond my usual self, into another world. I love to be lively and calm, to live in a group and to be alone. Like tonight, alone under the pale moon, I can think of anything, I can think of nothing, and I feel free. The things I must do and say in the daytime can now be ignored. This is the beauty of solitude, and I will enjoy this boundless lotus and moonlight.
Autumn wind
Autumn wind is like a soft comb combing, combing the quiet Tuanbaowa;
Autumn light is like a shiny sweat bead, fluttering on the flat beach.
Sorghum is like a team of "red scarves", quietly observing the road around them;
Sunflowers shook their heads and smiled, looking at the end of the red sky where the sun rises.
The short, year-old weeping willows caress the fast-ripening crops with their pale green leaves;
The dense reeds carefully guard the wildflowers that secretly open at their feet.
The sound of cicadas has subsided, and the talkative sparrows are no longer squeaking on the roofs;
The sound of frogs has ceased, and the wild Duliu Minoru River is no longer clamoring.
The geese are about to go south, and white ducks float silently on the water;
The coolness of autumn has just settled here, and the heat is still hidden in the hospitable homes.
Tuanbowa in the fall, as if in the fragrance of the dream sleep silly;
Tuanbowa in the fall, as if the girl is generally shy and shy.
Tuanbo Wa, Tuanbo Wa, are you really so quiet?
. Moonlight
I am a ray of moonlight that shines on the dry leaves where you walk. I take this quietness and ask the leaves to tell you softly, I know you have listened, I know you are at peace.
I am a ray of moonlight, through the clouds, I pine for the scent of your hair. My mood has been infected by you, and my mind tickles your sorrows. I have projected you on my version of my heart, I surround you completely and do not let you leave my thoughts.
I am a ray of moonlight, I fall in love with you unreservedly, just to wipe out your sorrow, dispel your uncertainty, and drive away your uneasiness. I sing softly, with heavenly music, I want your heart, too, with the sound, dancing, my song, my thoughts, my moonlight.
From that day on, I believed in a pair of eyes. You gazed at me like that, as if penetrating history and reaching right into my heart. I saw an ocean, dark blue and deep, and for every drop of water, there was your story. Lingering in that story, I read the vicissitudes and vastness, the calmness and stubbornness. It was that moment that I knew I had made up my mind to read you for the rest of my life.