I was fascinated by the three clear songs sung by Chinese and Western Silk Zhuhe at the Chinese and Western Music and Dance Conference last night.
As if a late spring morning, drizzling ① silently sprinkled on my face, causing a moist, relaxed feeling. The fresh breeze moves my clothes like the breath of a lover blows my hand. I set up a white bauxite corridor, after the drizzle, as if coated with a thin layer of cream; I only feel more and more slippery and lovely.
① is drizzling, and Yangzhou is called drizzle.
This is in the garden. The flowers still have their clear dreams. The light rain secretly washed away their dirt, and their sweet and soft luster glowed. Under the flamboyance that was washed away, I could see the tranquil red, the cold purple, and the white and green of a wry smile hidden in the sun. In the past, what was beautiful in front of my eyes, now it has a dark color. -- are you worried about the rest of Fangchun? Do you feel the drowsiness of Fangchun?
Probably because of the heavy rain, the garden lost its melancholy fragrance. The trickling east wind blew only wisps of hungry flowers, with the smell of wet grass and the taste of earth. From time to time, some newly planted seedlings, young wheat, and the fresh steam of shady willows were sent to the fields and swamps outside the garden. Although these are not sweet, they can strongly stimulate my nose and make me feel happy and tired.
Look, that's all in the song: I use my ears, my eyes, my nose, my tongue, my body, listen, and sing with my heart. I was finally attacked by a healthy paralysis. So it's all for the song. After that, only the song sings alone, listen; there is only song in the world.
Post a comment