A little bit of poetry crimps my heart.

A little bit of poetry crimps my heart.

Quiet night, the heart is as indifferent as water, light back, under the light, open Li Qingzhao's collection of poems, see the interpretation of the joys and sorrows in her wandering years. Most like Li Qingzhao's words, that graceful way, warm and moist as jade, soft and pitiful fragrance. No matter the country is broken and the family is perished, exiled or lost, she shows many talents in her ci, and her elegant and resolute personality charm and human style are really admirable. Her good writing style, moving and rich, romantic and beautiful, vividly describes a perfect poetic intention. Some people sigh: when you are young, don't read Li Qingzhao. The hardest thing in life is lovesickness. The queen of the country of ci can have no way but not to die. Curtains roll the west wind, people are thinner than yellow flowers, and they can also sing the heroism of being born as a hero and being a hero in ghosts after death. She listened to the lost rain in the Song Dynasty; she watched her songs in the Song Dynasty; she wrote poems in light ink; she watched the ebb and flow of the tide in the Song Dynasty; she watched the flowers bloom and fall in the Song Dynasty; she left us so much beautiful poetry in the Song Dynasty.

Quiet night looked at her words, listen attentively to her joys and sorrows, all tired, all unbearable, all will be dissolved by that thick poetry, there is no earthly deception, there is no earthly state of turbidity, only immersed in the beauty of the heart, can express the purest things in my heart. Her happy time of intoxication and no way to return is deeply imprinted on my heart; the boundless idleness of her brow but on her heart makes me laugh; her desolation of everything and tears makes me sigh; she guards the window, how to grow dark alone, sycamore and drizzle, to dusk, bit by bit. At such a time how can one word “sorrow” express all this! Her long sigh made me frown; her searching, desolate, miserable desolation made me heartache; her autumn feeling was suddenly cool, the rain beat the firewood, and the blue jade white case was illuminated by the lamp. The curtain roll is suspected to be an old friend, but he smiles alone in the cold wind. Hope makes people miserable; these poems crimson my heart, no reason, no reason, only willing to read her at night, in that dream, with her company, there will be no regrets in life, no regrets in the world.

Night after night, I approached her poems again and again, indulged in her world again and again, and lost in her artistic conception again and again. Once because of sighing Qinzheng building in front of the Huma, Pearl Cui stepped on all the fragrance and dust and became famous, but also because there was a Li family female growth, pen walking dragon and snake thunder. Cause inner restlessness; there have been alone on the blue boat, the full moon west building with the fence for a long time, spend floating zero water flow, just under the eyebrow, but on the heart, and leave a sweet smile. Donglei wine has dark fragrance sleeves after dusk. Mo Tao is not glamorous, the curtain rolls the west wind, the person is thinner than the yellow flower. I was deeply moved by her bone-breaking love, infatuated yearning, the concordance of the piano and the piano revealed in her love, and the charm and graceful grace, and at the same time I felt sorry that she was born at that time. Hoof riding broke her gracefulness and sweetness, she is like a plum blossom by the broken bridge outside the post, scattered into mud and ground into dust, only fragrance remains the same, and love is dried on the riverbed of the broken wind of the mountains and rivers. Her tenderness fled everywhere, her love was also wandering, so there was a sad pillow on the three shifts of rain, sorrow and damage northerners are not used to listening to the helplessness, so there are things and people do not have a rest, tears flow first. Just for fear that Shuangxi is in a boat, it can't be carried, and there are many sorrows. A long sigh, a kind of Acacia, the sorrow of two places was swept away by the west wind of fallen leaves and flying flowers, she could only understand the Indus and drizzle, to dusk, dribs and drabs, this time, how a sad word! Slowly chewing his own desolation.

Sadness is not all of Li Qingzhao, nor is femininity all of Yi'an 's poems. Rolling on the banks of the Wujiang River, she blurted out: be a hero in life and a hero in ghosts after death! How many husbands have been able to do so for thousands of years? If you want to send blood and tears to the mountains and rivers, go to Jiudongshan to fill the earth; 90,000 miles of Fengpeng is lifting, the wind is resting, and Pengzhou blows the three mountains; through the ages, there are eight romantic buildings, leaving rivers and mountains to worry with future generations. The water is three thousand miles from the south, and the air pressure is 14 states in Jiangcheng. What a fourteen states in Jiangcheng, which is not like the work of a displaced woman, but more like the work of a general looking forward to recovering the lost land! There is Cao Cao's passion for poetry, Su Shi's heroic journey to the east of the river, Lu you's anger over the railing, and Xin Qiji's lamentation to watch the sword. She shows the world that she is not a weak, sentimental daughter, she can also make the sound of stone, in that dynasty, for such a weak woman, is not the peak, a maverick singing through the ages?

It is said that life is impermanent, but it is also the norm of life. There are too many things in life, in places you can't expect. One bitter and one sweet is the taste, one day is a day, one joy and one sorrow is life, and one rise and fall is life. Taste bitter, understand the sweet taste; experienced suffering, know the beauty of strength. In the quiet night, I am alone at the window to read the beauty of another world. Maybe I really forget myself at this moment. The charm of the poem guides countless scarred hearts, and belongs to their own sky, where there are large clouds in full bloom, dazzling as beautiful as flowers. If I were born in her time and lived in her world, what would my life be like? What kind of beauty will my life have? How sad, how helpless, how embarrassed, how many memories. In the face of different things, in the face of broken incense residual wine, in the face of green manure, red and thin, no fellow, no acquaintance, only a glass of turbid wine to wash away sorrows. How deep is that sorrow? There's nothing a grasshopper boat can do. Since it can not be carried, then with the loneliness into salty tears, dripping in the memory of the past, dripping in the continuous thoughts.

A little poetic rhyme gives me an indifferent state of mind, not to think about those things full of dirt, not to think about those full of selfishness, not to think about the hearts of the people blinded by interests and power, not to think about the pale hearts under the prosperous appearance, not to think about the tragedies behind the rich and noble. As long as a little bit of poetry, wash the soul, after scouring again and again, let yourself forget the pain, let that one blow after another, lose the ability to knock down the soul. A little bit of poetry, give me beauty, in this quiet night, in my stumbling dream, save that fresh and far-reaching notes.

A touch of spring rain moistens the withered trees, a little bit of poetry ripens my heart.