? But, you said, spring is not amorous feelings. Ren Xichun was often afraid that flowers would bloom early, but she still fell in love. After a night of rain and sudden wind, it is green, fat and thin. Sighing "the catkins are thin on the branches" is just "affectionate but heartless". Spring is always in a hurry, too hasty. I can't wait for the flowers to wither, even the memory of spring is gone. ?
? I said, it is poetry that makes spring. Through thick curtains and glass, how can people who don't "sneak into the night with the wind and moisten things silently" feel the elegance of spring rain? How can we appreciate the profundity and confusion of spring in the Northern Dynasties without "a thousand miles of birds singing green and reflecting red" and "a few towers of misty rain"? ?
? But you said that spring created poetry. The grass grows, the warblers fly, the willows brush the embankment, and the red apricots go out of the wall, all loves. The charm of spring itself is unparalleled. It will only provoke the literati to win the day and seek incense, and Chai Fei will be detained for a long time, so that there will be "clothes that will wet apricot flowers and rain, and the face is not cold." ?
? I said that spring is a few freehand brushstrokes painted on rice paper. Curly goose yellow touches the ground and hangs lightly, and a duck is green and shiny. The moist soil is covered with green buds, and the vast green grass is dotted with stars and flowers. There will also be a few clouds hanging in the blue sky, and the sunshine is soft like a faint golden color for the picture. ?
? But you said that spring is a meticulous painting: in a quiet and empty mountain, there is a quiet and empty ancient temple. On the night of spring rain washing, the bright moon falls through the jagged pine branches, and the clear spring flows among the stones with the Sanskrit sound of the ancient temple. After the spring rain, the unique fragrance of the soil permeates the studio, which is spring. ?
? I said, the beauty of spring is that its flowers are in full bloom, the country is beautiful, elegant and delicate, and the fragrance is pleasant ... This colorful picture shows its vitality for Dongfeng. ?
? But you said that the soul of spring lies in the reserved spring rain. The light rain that moistens like crisp is gentle, the clear light rain is soul-breaking, and the light rain in March of fireworks is affectionate. The best thing is that it rains at home in Huangmei season. At that time, "the date didn't arrive in the middle of the night, I knocked on a chess piece and fell to my death." It's really poetic. ?
? Oh, it turns out that spring has different meanings in everyone's vocabulary. It turns out that spring has no definition.
Listen to the heart sound of spring
Outside the window, light rain is falling silently. Holding a steaming cup of tea in my hand, I approached the distant shadow of Xiao Sheng's pen in the long fragrance of tea and the winter snow that melted the rain calmly.
I have been longing for a snow, which arrived as scheduled on a winter morning, but it seems to be an unreachable dream for me who grew up in the south. It was last winter, a rare snowstorm broke out in the south, and my town was only covered with a thin layer of ice on the ground. The long-awaited snow still didn't surprise me as scheduled. So, a dozen distant posts, a long-lost yearning for snow, were clearly displayed in front of me, just like the continuous spring rain outside the window, so fresh and natural, so kind and moving; It is also like the snow that appears in countless times in the dream, so crystal clear and so light and elegant.
At the beginning, the shadow in the distance showed us a poetic picture of spring rain: there was no deliberate and meticulous carving, and there were no traces of heavy colors, only a few strokes like willow, such as pleasant breeze and shy spring rain, which were coming quietly; An idea of looking forward to the spring rain, a feeling of being close to nature, so inadvertently, tightly buckled my heart. Bathed in this drizzle, I looked up and the sky was clear.
"Can you come tomorrow?" How much expectation, how much longing, vaguely between the lines.
Following the brush strokes of distant shadows, walking in the spring of the northland, the light rain is lightly dyed. Snow from winter to spring once again blurred my vision: I stopped and looked across the river. Snow, you're here. You've dyed the peaks of Baiwang Mountain white, and the ivory jade color stands out in the gray sky, which is particularly beautiful. Just like a fairy wearing a faded green dress and a white scarf, she is ashamed.
The rain through the pine trees gradually diluted the spray on the stone steps, and it was faintly visible that the crystal snowflakes had quietly melted before they landed on the stone steps. My breath forms a white mist in the dense air, and I don't want to disperse it. "
In this passage, "Far Shadow" uses anthropomorphic techniques to describe snow vividly. Snowflakes are as light as fairies, as shy as virgins, and leap from the paper. My attachment to snow is so real. As you can imagine, being in such a snowy scene and witnessing the natural scenery of winter snow and spring rain, the author's mood at this time is quiet, the smile on his face is warm, and the joy flowing from his heart is self-evident. A sense of happiness that seeps into the heart pours out from the pen; A ray of refreshing and pleasing breath lingers in the text, making readers intoxicated and happy.
Snow is a gift of nature, and snow is also an elf of nature. Those pines and cypresses that are silent in the snow and those heroic images that stand proudly in the snow all show his heroism in the author's works and leave a deep impression on us. The deep admiration for rain and snow, coupled with the high respect for heroes, adds a lot of color to the lyric tone of the full text and injects new vitality into this chapter of praising nature.
Pick up the natural and unrestrained snowflake with both hands, and you can see her crystal and soft figure; Grasping the clear winter snow with both hands, I once again felt her rich and strong personality; In the sun, you can hear her low voice, and the sound quality is clean and neat. Spring has come, and she and I agreed to meet in the first spring rain, watching the winter snow melt into spring rain calmly.
She said: I will come as promised, and I will turn into a spring rain and sprinkle it on the earth, just for the beautiful scenery and flowers.
I said: I arrived as promised, and I wrote a heart song praising the winter snow. May the winter snow and spring rain smile.
The fluttering snowflake is the messenger before the arrival of the spring rain;
This is like a drizzle, which is the spirit after melting. Perhaps, only after a winter's gestation can spring be full of vitality; Perhaps, only the rebirth after the melting of snowflakes can have the warmth of spring rain. It is the snowflake that gives the promise of spring purity; It is the spring rain that awakens the colorful trees. Through the words in the shadow in the distance, I seem to see the light and smart charm of snowflakes and hear the gentle and affectionate whisper of spring rain.
Spring has come and everything is revived. It was cloudy yesterday afternoon. According to past experience, it should be a continuous spring rain. As the old saying goes, "Spring rain is as expensive as oil". In the past two days, droughts have been reported all over the country. People are eager for a continuous spring rain, wet and dry land, and sow timely rain for that spring. The snow that just fell in winter didn't come, and the first rain came quietly this spring. Just like some unexpected beauty in life, it may come quietly when you forget it and have no hope.
The reverie of spring
Everyone has their own spring in their hearts. Famous poets describe spring too much. In my eyes, spring is simply a living book, which makes people eat and read enough. Gorgeous illustrations, meaningful sentences, changeable styles and rich connotations constantly attract us to look forward to it, get close to it, explore it and chant it.
Spring is an essay. Unconsciously, the water in the river rose, and the clear river reflected the blue sky like a transparent blue ribbon; Reflected with green trees, like a piece of jasper. The grass took off its heavy clothes, put on its green coat, and emerged from the field. The ground was covered with endless green velvet carpets. Under the breeze, the willow swayed freely, stretching Anna's waist and spitting out buds. Then, the buds grow green leaves and gently stir the gurgling river. From a distance, they look like green curtains. From a close distance, they look like long hair in the mirror. The golden winter jasmine blooms with a smile and plays the song of life towards the sky. At this time, the peach blossom does not show weakness. Under the caress of the spring breeze, it is as brilliant as Xia Hong. Although there are many kinds of scenery in spring, everything in change shows the vitality of life. Doesn't this reflect the characteristics of prose scattered in form but not in spirit?
Spring is a collection of poems. Every leaf and every flower is condensed with fragrant and beautiful poems. Taste it carefully and leave fragrance on your teeth and lips. The newly-grown grass has both the posture of "the rain in the sky is crisp, and the grass in the distance is similar in color" and the elegance of "the flowers are getting lost, and the shallow grass can be without horseshoes". In the early spring, the willow branch peach blossoms germinated from the situation that "the poet is in the spring, the green willow and yellow are half uneven" and "the peach blossoms outside the bamboo are three or two, and the spring water warms the duck prophet". In mid-spring, when "Jasper is as high as a tree, and thousands of strands of green silk hang down" and "The grass tree knows that spring will return soon, and all kinds of red and purple flowers compete for Fangfei", the willow flowers are too thick to melt again. In the late spring, the scene of blooming flowers has lost its former glory in the scenes of "the peaches and plums in the south garden are all falling, the spring breeze shakes the empty branches alone" and "the spring scenery is all annoying, and a few flowers are all over the ground" ... When you open the poetry collection of Spring, whether it is flowers, insects, birds or mountains and rivers, you can recite fascinating chapters in the chapter of looking forward to, enjoying and cherishing spring.
Spring is a novel. A tree of peaches and plums is full of flowers, competing for novelty and beauty, and deducing the romantic situation of attracting bees and butterflies. Butterflies flapped their colorful wings, bees sang intoxicating sweetness, danced in the branches, lingered among the flowers, wrote the persistence and infatuation of "Butterfly Loves Flowers", and interpreted the bitterness and expectation of "whoever works hard is sweet". The hero Bird finally made his debut in the long-awaited competition. He began to rack his brains to create a plot and beat around the bush. Who says the famous flowers are taken and will never stop until the last moment? A tortuous, fragrant and touching story begins.
Spring is a fable. You see, the new green arched in the corner brick crevice, the flower buds spit out from the cliff, the dog's tail pulled out from the cement path, and the moss emerging from the bellows of the farmhouse are all showing us the meaning of life and the belief in survival. The wild flowers in the mountains that nobody cares about but are open explain the Zen meaning of "opening calmly and falling calmly", and the new buds on the dead trees and the small green buds under the hay all tell us a philosophy about kindness and not bowing to fate.