The cold cicada is sad, late to the long Pavilion, the first rest of the showers. Du door accounts drink without a clue, nostalgia, Lanzhou urged. We gaze into each other’s eyes in tears, hand holding hand, all our words choked. Miss to go, thousands of miles of smoke, the twilight is heavy and the sky is wide.
Affectionate since ancient times hurt farewell, even more deserved Qingqiu Festival, where to wake up tonight? The willow bank is full of wind and the moon. Year after year, I will be far away from you.All these beautiful scenes are unfolding, but to no avail. Oh, to whom can I speak of this ineffably enchanting landscape.
Liu Yong's "Yu Lin Ling"
The rain of this season, as soon as it gets up, it makes people heartache, time seems to go back to the past, the heart is wet, drifting in the river of the years. One term of Qunfang, a hundred flowers, more or less followed by the running water, how much with the falling flowers. June, lush vegetation, brilliant flowers, is a good time for the world, a fragrance greedy. Just read Liu Yong's words, just like the plum rain in this season, it always lasts a little longer, finer, slower and lingering until the plum fungus is born at the bottom of my heart. Although we cannot grasp the cloudy and sunny seasons, the roundness of the soul can be adjusted at will. At the right time, borrow a wisp of wind, a cloud, a rain, decorate the prosperous mountains and rivers, broken life, flowers and trees, tree shade, scenery and old things more beautiful.
Life is not absolutely perfect, there will always be some years to make some irreparable mistakes. Perhaps things have long been secretly buried by the spring breeze, but we will start the reason, remember clearly, not can not put down, but was unintentionally led up. It is said that "regrets are called life, and occasional flaws are real." I wonder if Liu Yong's life is incomplete or gorgeous? Just because of the sentence, "if you go to sing shallowly, why should you be famous?" This life with long mountains and wide waters gave birth to a prodigal son for no reason. he did not want to float clouds, but only sang in a cup and covered his soul with bustling clouds and smoke. Whether he is arrogant or unintentional, life is such a comedy, in a beautiful season, but you have to for once a joke, stay in purdah, until old age. He was so unintentional that in front of a half-open and half-closed window, he remembered the past. Last night, the Red House, your heart was cocoa, and the beautiful scenery was no match for a trace of memory. He is a persistent man. Since he has decided to make a grand plan to serve his country, how can he promise to make love all day long and make a face to grow old all day long? Fate has many eyes, he still came, shallow and low singing, away from the fame, even if thousands of unwilling, but also helpless!
Fate is like a red silk thread, invisible winning the lottery, determining your fate in the world of mortals, even if you are talented and knowledgeable, you will not be able to change the outcome that has been arranged. Vientiane Senluo, a bunch of Ganges, a grain of quicksand, a fallen leaf, all have an established track, if they insist on deviating, they will only be lost and vanished, and they will be buried together for fleeting years in the afterlife. Maybe he believed in fate, but he was not willing to lose to an unintentional joke. He was a scholar, and his long-cherished wish was to take a broad career. But he doesn't know what's going on behind the fickle hearts, and why bother to take a joke seriously, not to mention why a 1995 supreme man who owns the world is so weak-minded? As a matter of fact, it is not that the emperor is narrow-minded, but he just wants to select talents and govern his great rivers and mountains. Why do you want to be famous and make all officials boil? He does not believe in fate, nor does he want to believe in karma. He has been hovering between fireworks, red candles and literati. He is destined to be a withered leaf that cannot go back to the branches or go too far away. Perhaps, he only needs a ray of sunshine, in the leisure afternoon, close to a long open temple door, to visit monks, seek the heart sutra, only one encounter, can understand a period of Bodhi time.
He was lucky. Although he could not fulfill his long-cherished wish, he left a brilliant stroke in the history of literature. The world of mortals is rolling, the sea of people is boundless, how many prodigal sons are ruthlessly buried under the barren grass and loess, and there is not even a word stele, so the heart is unwilling to rest on the ground. No one knows whether they have ever written poems, let alone read those blank books and notes. Later generations will come here, and when they see the protruding mound, they may remember that it used to be a lonely grave. Time is like this, never fair, but we still have to live well, even if the sky has not left traces of you and me, but we have flown. Every man has his faults. Everyone's life is accompanied by dawn and sunset, and no one can be perfect. Imperfection is a kind of beauty, if life is too perfect, it will lose the meaning of life, and do you know the taste of bitterness and sweetness? Let us pack up our broken hearts, warm a pot of tea, read que Song ci, let that gracefulness and tenderness nourish our thirsty hearts, and at the right time, twist a string of Buddha beads to read a Tang poem, let the emptiness of poetry and the elegance of words wash our dirty souls, and return our own days of peace, peace and plain clothes.
Affectionate since ancient times hurt farewell, even more worthy of snub Qingqiu Festival, where to wake up tonight? The willow bank is full of wind and the moon. Year after year, I will be far away from you.All these beautiful scenes are unfolding, but to no avail. Oh, to whom can I speak of this ineffably enchanting landscape.
Meet again this word, suddenly understand that some roads must go through before they will understand, some people must love before they will understand, something must be lost to know how to cherish. Flowers bloom and fall, birth, old age, sickness and death, no matter how long or short, there must be a process. You may be able to understand it in advance, but it won't be unforgettable if you haven't experienced it. The real insight is to show a kind of indifference after going through thousands of rivers and mountains and paying off all the flavors of life, rather than plain sailing as before. Believe that the pain of the poet, you and I have experienced, but the depth is different, the posture is different. When I read Song ci, I read the sweetness and bitterness of deja vu and the meticulous and implicit words. Close your eyes and recall the past of the poet and himself, in a trance, there is always a period of time, interspersed with similar feelings, still sentimental. Read along with that ray of love, you will find that you are now, but the poet of that year, smiling for the same flower, crying for the same rain, and sad for the same parting.
Always respect everyone who falls in love with words and can't extricate themselves. they are as compassionate as Buddha, giving their feelings to sentient beings and leaving indifference to themselves. With the hustle and bustle of the world and the flow of people, it has long been difficult for us to find the confidant who once had a red building and green window. only in words and music can we easily meet the person who is destined to be born with you. Just because of a piece of music, a paragraph of text, will be thousands of miles apart, people we have never met, together, acquaintance, mutual understanding, love, cherish each other, we are so simple and direct. Whether it is the graceful thousands of years ago, or the bold and unrestrained thousands of years later, the yellowed pages always contain the past events of the wind and moon that you have always wanted to find. Words, is a good medicine, it can help time heal your wounds. When sadness becomes a habit, when loneliness becomes a kind of enjoyment, you will find that life can not be in such a hurry. There is another heaven that belongs to you in the world of mortals. And regard the poet as our old friend, perhaps in this way we will better understand the sadness of the poet, and better know how to cherish the life of this long mountain and wide water. The old friend fell there, and that's where we picked him up; hold out a hand and remember the hole under our feet, we will go better and go further.
Put the heart in Song ci for a long time, the heart will be wet, some corners no matter how you bask in, also do not dry. It is a fastidious thing to read Song ci. You must sink your heart at the right time and get out when it is not soaked. It is like tasting a cup of fragrant tea and drinking it down without taste. It is too slow and will lose its remaining temperature. When you get out of Song ci, you can put it into Tang poetry to moisten it. Let the emptiness and cleanliness of Tang poetry be washed, and then put back into Song ci, so that the world and life are thorough, and the heart can maintain a state of Wei and Mo, and there is no need to be afraid of the passing away of the pear rain in the Song Dynasty.
Although the poet has put an end to his visit to the green house, the wind and moon, the drunken lying of flowers, the pity of fragrance and jade, and the rough life of romance, our young life is still shining, and we are just looking for a harbor to shelter from the rain in Song ci. After the wind and rain, they each left, enjoying the bright sunshine and warmth.
Text / idle flowers
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