Tengwangge is crying.

Ships on the banks of the river, swaying reeds, and the wind blowing from the south ... You can see everything in the Ganjiang River, but you can't find the expected figure in your field of vision.

I was in the corner of Wang Teng Pavilion, thinking about Wang Bo alone.

Tourists' thoughts, like an unreachable autumn wind, travel through time and space to snuggle up in the power of the Wang Teng Pavilion. Standing on the cold Wang Tengting, when I opened my eyes and closed my eyes, all I saw was Wang Bo's thin and melancholy expression. The sunset hugs the weeping Wang Tengting, whose shadow lies obliquely in the river. The emperor is still lost, and the Yangtze River is empty outside the threshold. On the lonely pavilion, the intertwined scenes no longer exist, and orchestral music is just a kind of echo. I sat on the steps of the pavilion, listening to Jiang's voice alone. Wang Bo, an unparalleled genius, is hidden in the folds of jiang bo.

The sadness of the gazebo silently let me follow. Every inch of the floor, every Dani is touching my heartstrings. I want to continue a poem for Teng, who is in tears. The poem is full of scars. The tearful Tengwangge walks into my dream alone every day and wanders alone. I couldn't find Wang Bo's poems, and I was awake for countless nights, sleeping in the pavilion until dawn.

Some people say that all landscapes will exclude some people and favor some people. All people will be born in different landscapes. Wang Teng was not affirmed in court, but was repeatedly condemned and demoted. However, the layers of dissatisfaction can't erase his temperament of wandering around the world and singing and dancing. Being demoted to the edge of the Ganjiang River as a small secretariat, he also wanted to build a pavilion of "singing on sandalwood boards and drinking in golden bottles" for himself to attract literati to sing. On that Mid-Autumn Festival, Wang Bo's "one-man show" was on. He deeply looked at the river where the water meets the sky, and felt that life was like a tributary of this river, with ups and downs, but a cavity of passion and desire floated freely on paper, and all articles were full of yearning for life. Some people say that "thick accumulation and thin hair" is for "thick hair" Wang Boke lived in Jiannan for several years and finally got his peak. Tengwang Pavilion is just a way to show its towering posture. At this time, changan may have forgotten all about Wang Bo. Who would have thought of stroking Zheng at the same time Nowadays, lonely raccoons on the banks of the Ganjiang River fly up and down with gifts given to them by Wang Bo at this time of the year, holding up the amorous feelings of endless autumn waters.

"Things are people, not everything." Visitors are still lingering on the pavilion, looking at the water clouds and swords outside the pavilion, and their hearts are like a raging river, wanting to pat the railing. The pavilion is lined with faint clouds, like a pair of eyes and a face full of tears.

The boat is carrying the long shadow of the pavilion, moving forward gloomily, and the charm of Wang Bo is faintly visible in the turbulent river waves. This young man who has read a lot of poems since he was a child is a young man who was born in Tao Tao and walked in a thread-bound book. He lives in the hometown of Curie and Shu, and he doesn't want to do anything except study. It's a long way from Shu to Chang 'an. You don't know anything, but you are addicted to ci: "Nine Days in Shu" and "Shengquan Banquet" ... "Every article is amazing." There are many doors in life, but some doors are always open to some people. Don't try to knock on the door, it's the door of life regret. If Wang Bo devotes himself to writing, history may be rewritten. Unfortunately, Wang Bo lived in Jiangnan for two years. After all, he doesn't want to be lonely. He hesitated to go north and joined the army in Henan. Scholar's pedantry will eventually lead to great disaster, and the dragon will be furious and risk losing his life. The ups and downs of life are repeated, and Wang Bo's heart is cold.

A pavilion/hiding under the clouds/tired as a yellow bird/crying in the face of the river. The river flows slowly, and sometimes it is gentle enough to make people cry. A scholar who talks like a book sometimes makes people taste wrong. Struggling? Confused? Lost? Still angry? After all, life is not as poetic, simple and intuitive as "counting boats to the sunset". -people are speechless, but they are drunk. Wang Tengting is not in Chang 'an, which produces emperors and princes. Standing on this exquisite and elegant pavilion, the infinite amorous feelings of Ganjiang River can be seen in a glance, and Wang Bo's dream soul can snuggle up with the pavilion forever.

Kundera said: Life is a tree full of possibilities. During the construction of Jiannan, Wang Bo may have simulated various possibilities in the future, but he didn't expect that the most desperate possibility in life was waiting in the water.

Wang Bo, like a broken kite, plunged into the river. Can his soul be attached to the fish in the river? I wonder if he will open a river of flowers on his path, which will make the fish happy and melancholy.

The sunset has become a afterglow, and people go to the pavilion to empty birds, leaving a lonely space.

Look at the world, look at the universe, the vast sea of people, rushing, struggling, struggling, pursuing, life is endless, fighting is endless. All sentient beings are running around looking for their own things. Because of this, even if you toss for a lifetime, you will completely ignore it. The world is bustling for profit, and the world is bustling for profit. Name? For profit? For the ideal? Although they vary from person to person, regardless of their moral standards, they are all looking for the same thing-a place that makes them comfortable, harmonious and quiet.

Ants, tiny animal spirits, know that life is weak and the earth is boundless, but they still use their weak bodies and tireless beliefs to build their own life homes-ant nests, which have already faced any disasters on the earth. A tree stands alone on the earth, but tries to stretch itself out into the blue sky and white clouds, occupy its own sky, absorb sunlight and release oxygen, and build its own home with branches-the green of life. In order to survive, all life is looking for or building its own spiritual home. As the spirit of all things, human beings are no exception. In unknown places, the vast universe and the earth can be ignored, and the vast earth can also be ignored by individuals. How short life is. In the vast starry sky, in the long history, it shows that people are small, lonely and cold. Only by building a warm space, behind me, are future generations? Where was the past before me? Loneliness and cold can be driven away. Here you can snuggle up and look out. This space is the spiritual home of mankind. Similarly, no one is no exception.

What is it? A perfect, warm, harmonious and comfortable paradise in your heart. It can be a rich family wealth, a responsive force, an unforgettable relationship and so on. Or more than that. Where the hell is it? In fact, since the birth of mankind, our ancestors have been looking for it. However, failure has long been submerged in the dust of history and the blood of autocracy. So they passed the baton on to their children and grandchildren. Strangely, smart modern people are not relaxed because of their ancestors' footprints, but are more anxious. There are tall buildings and neon lights everywhere, and young surfers are dancing wildly everywhere. Eyes are full of ups and downs of fame and fortune, where fame and fortune haunt, there are tireless people to kill. Fast-paced life and ecstatic utilitarian dance drive away people's inner peace. Followed by a serious lack of poetry. Man, a poetic dwelling place, is undoubtedly like a tree hollowed out by the innermost wood, living aimlessly. Instead, it is full of all kinds of desires, the heart is over-squeezed, and it lacks poetic comfort and adjustment, which eventually makes this machine more and more empty and irritable. Complain bitterly, jump off a building, be anesthetized. Modern people, under the illumination of the high development of material civilization, like children without parents and families, generally feel exiled. They had a home when they were young, and then they were kicked out. Looking back now, they can't find their home because of the ice wall.

The more lacking, the more eager, the more eager to chase, although I have not regretted death. Exhausted and struggling for a lifetime, modern people struggle to break through all kinds of dust, wear all kinds of masks and try their best to please all kinds of dust, and then try to control it. Finally, I dream of standing on a tall building and cheering loudly one day: I succeeded! To this end, many people leave their homes, leaving their wives and children behind, many people are eager to move and struggle, and even many people are willing to take risks to build their dreams on the suffering of others. But reality is always cruel, perfection is always a joke with reality, but it can never be completely detached, and the dreams in my heart are always mixed with more or less shortcomings; Or more cruel torture under the encirclement and suppression of reality. To make up for it, we gamble like gamblers who have lost their eyes. But in the end, we are not entangled in all kinds of dust. Pursue again and again, smash again and again, gamble again and again, and see no sunshine again and again. Our machines are raised again and again by life, and they fall again and again, and our bodies consume oil for a lifetime. But the dream cloud in my heart is still out of reach. There are also some people who climb tall buildings and shout loudly, but everything is like a kneaded clay sculpture. Under the attack of wind and rain, it suddenly collapsed and all the pain broke out. At this time, they want to find a place to rest, but they can't find the way back. After a lifetime of wandering, it is a heart full of holes, so we will never find home on the road, even if we are at home, we are eager to go home.

Why? Why can't you find a home through the ages? Why do we always hope that a sudden rainstorm in the boundless sky will wash away our hearts covered with helpless and painful smoke? We are looking forward to a hurricane rotating between the desert and the earth, so that we can fly gently with heavy and tired rain.

Maybe we're looking in the wrong direction or not at all. Home is the place where the soul rests, and proud modern people skillfully equate it with luxury and ostentation. High-rise villas, beautiful cars, money and power, etc. I don't know that luxury ostentation and extravagance can only make the soul at a loss. What the soul needs is harmony and tranquility, not decoration. In this pursuit, we are alienated into house slaves, car slaves and money slaves. He is not the master of the family, but the slave of fame and fortune. Lost the freedom, tranquility and comfort of being a master. If you don't do what you should care about, eventually someone will feel after things change: where are my parents? Where are my wife and children? Where are my friends? ..... became a veritable creditor, owing affection, love and friendship that can never be paid off. ...

Buddhism says that human suffering stems from desire. The greater the desire, the deeper the pain. There are many examples in real life. They cut off their love affair all their lives and finally enjoyed the glory by hook or by crook. Finally, they found that their most precious self had been changed, alienated and even lost in endless struggle.

Where the hell is home? Not going anywhere. The materialistic pursuit of fame and fortune is meaningless; There is nothing in insatiable greed; There is nothing in the fly camp.

It's everywhere. There is something in a spoonful of food and drink; In spring, there are songs on the boat; In winter, there is talk by the fire.

It is not in other places, but in our hearts. You can hear his heartbeat as long as you feel it with your heart. You want it to be harmonious, you want it to be harmonious, and you want it to be uneasy. Comfort, tranquility and harmony are all among your choices.

Go, never stop, feel the true meaning of life with your heart, don't care about the gains and losses of the world of mortals, and don't be a slave to desire; Cherish what you have and strive for a harmonious, quiet and comfortable life. Home is in your daily life.

Fortunately for us, while we are looking for a small home for ourselves, there is another kind of people who are determined to find a home for all mankind. They regard all mankind as their home. They are Confucius, Confucius's benevolence, righteousness, courtesy and wisdom; They are Fan Zhongyan, Fan Zhongyan's "Worry about the world first, and be happy after the world"; They are Haizi, children's "spring blossoms"; They are Nietzsche, Nietzsche's "God is dead" ... It is precisely because of them that we humans will not get lost in the universe, or even freeze to death by the cold and starry sky.

Philosophers say that philosophy is to look for homes everywhere with an impulse of homesickness.