Moonlight, like running water, falls quietly on this leaf and flower. A thin layer of blue mist floats in the lotus pond. Leaves and flowers seem to have been washed in milk; Like a dream in a sarong. Although it is a full moon, there are faint clouds in the sky, so it can't shine; But I think this is just a benefit-deep sleep is indispensable, and nap is unique. Moonlight shines through the trees, and the bushes at the height cast uneven and mottled shadows, which are as steep as ghosts; The sparse shadows of curved willows seem to be painted on lotus leaves. The moonlight in the pond is uneven; But light and shadow have a harmonious melody, such as a famous song played in the Vatican.

Around the lotus pond, there are trees far and near, and willows are the most. These trees surround a lotus pond; Only on one side of the path, there are some gaps, which seem to be reserved for moonlight. An example of the color of trees is cloudy, which at first glance looks like a cloud of smoke; But the abundance of willows can be recognized in the smoke. There are distant mountains on the treetops, just a little careless. There are still one or two lamps leaking through the cracks in the tree. What is listless is the eyes of those who are sleepy. At this time, the most lively are cicadas in the tree and frogs in the water; But the excitement is theirs. I have nothing.

The mountains snuggled up to each other and slept peacefully in the dim moonlight. I didn't expect to see it again and again during the day, and the mountain with moonlight reappeared is just like a fairyland. The trees on the mountain huddled together and hugged each other and fell asleep. The tall and swaying crowns of trees such as pine trees are like umbrellas, like clouds, like splash-ink paintings in the faint night. The mountain is breathing, the tree is breathing, the air is breathing, and the night is breathing ... Now, you can see the horizon; Listen, you can hear the sound of the cape. The listener looks at people, not the ears but the eyes, but the heart, which is the help of moonlight.

Clouds, floating around, dancing with the wind, bring my blessings to the blue sky together. I am pursuing that white dream, which is light and soft. This is the cradle of charm. I watched and ran until I reached the other side of the mountain. It is still so close and so far away from me, and I am confused and disappointed. I don't know whether I should keep running or wait on the edge of watching. How can the beauty of cotton wool not be envied? How can its ever-changing figure not be fascinating? The sun shines on it, and it covers its face with its body, so its soft lines turn golden again. Turn into a horse, a fish, ups and downs, and waves. Beautiful as a girl and lively as a child. How I want to fly to it and have it. But I don't know how to treat it and have it. It is a sacred petal in my heart. If you hold it in your hand, you are afraid of flying, but if you hold it in your mouth, you are afraid of melting.

The sun is setting, and we are scattering bits and pieces all the way. The wind said it was going to rain. I said, no, that's wet spirit, the spirit of water.

Warm rain, densely woven, like a scattered water curtain. The dry world becomes wet with the sound of ticking. Leaves become greener, the air becomes brighter, and people's mood begins to brighten. Walking in the rain with a small umbrella, let the rain beat the worries of the years and turn them into deep and shallow puddles on the ground. The distant green hills are surrounded by smoke and waves, which reminds people of an idyllic, picturesque and song-like paradise. There are no drifting fishing boats on the smoky river, and my thoughts are still immersed in the situation that "green bamboo hats and green clothes don't need to return to the rain" and I don't want to go out.

Pessimists are defeated by themselves first and then by life; An optimist conquers himself first, then life. Pessimists have limited pain and limited future; An optimistic person has gone through many hardships and has a bright future. In the eyes of pessimists, what is possible may also become impossible; In the eyes of optimists, the impossible becomes possible. Pessimism can only produce mediocrity, while optimism can create Excellence. From extraordinary people, it is easy for us to find an optimistic spirit; From mediocre people, we can easily find gloomy shadows.

Moonlight is like orange indifferent liquid, and mountains and rivers are immersed in moonlight, which is as quiet as heaven. Alone in the moonlight, a peaceful and peaceful heart is under the wise examination of the moonlight. Life is beautiful in an instant, and people's hearts should be beautiful. What we do is worthy of this beautiful world and this beautiful moonlight. Only a beautiful soul can shine into the beautiful moonlight, and only a person with a beautiful heart can dare to face the beautiful moonlight quietly and have a peaceful soul.

If the blackboard is a vast sea, then the teacher is a sailor on the sea. At the moment when the bell rings, you paddle the textbook parked in the harbor like a paddle with the teacher's whip. On the desk, problems piled up. Your posture is lifelike, like a flying bird, drawing a beautiful arc on the platform-ships pass by ... there is no cloud floating in the sky, just like your bright heart.

Thanks to life, thanks to nature, my boat of life banished noise, pollution and congestion, moored in this moonlight, and met this beautiful dreamlike scenery. Indulged in the moonlight, I even forgot when and how I got into it, and I didn't expect to get out of it, out of this quiet and pleasant dream.

The warm rain washed away the dust of history, but I couldn't restore it, and I couldn't clearly describe the joys and sorrows of the ancients. Therefore, I can only walk along the road with a small umbrella, enjoy a long story with green thoughts, and then turn it into soil to hide its fragrance. The rain drops down and slips away quietly in the gap of the path, just like a girl hiding a sad past in her throat. Looking at the gray sky through the rain curtain, how many unknown stories are there in the dust? And all I see is still a rain, a path, a lonely river, and I, holding a small umbrella, stand alone in the wind and rain.

That rain is wet spirit, the spirit of water. It's just that it turns many touching stories into soil, and even the fragrance is hidden in the soil. The fragrance in the air may be the sustenance of the story or my poor reverie. My tears echo the rain, and I can't tell which is rain and which is tears. I wonder if it is the soul of water.

Life is a long chess game. There is no hunting for the west wind in this chess game, and there is no performance of smoke everywhere. There is only a choice between choice and advance and retreat. Only like a chess piece, March forward along the road of life, and never back down, with hard work and perseverance, March forward, can write the most magnificent song of the strong in life.

In the long river of time, we only have our own ray of moonlight. If we don't cherish a little, we will suffer a lot and everything will be wasted. Didn't you see that this month has come from ancient times, gone through vicissitudes, experienced ups and downs, sent eternal love, and watched the flowers bloom and fall ... The king's moon, the frosty moon, the Guan Shanyue and the red moon have all disappeared! The mountains and rivers are silent and fall asleep; Every month, someone speaks for himself. How should we grasp this ray of moonlight? In early winter, the moon hangs high and silent, like a shower.

Just as there are no two identical leaves in the world, everyone has his own unique Excellence. Being good at tolerating others' shortcomings and appreciating others' Excellence is not only reflected in an open mind, but also a kind of wisdom to treat people. The sooner you find your best position, the more you can give full play to your potential and embrace success.

At night, I reveal a trace of coolness and wind, sniff the jasmine in front of the window, and the elegant fragrance merges into a gentle sleepless night. Just then, I heard a song "A little condensed smoke". Classical light music comes slowly, like an old friend who has been lost for a long time, trekking to Qian Shan to find my Qian Shan, looking back at the moment when I met you in the fragrance of jasmine. In joy, I abandoned my heart lock and opened my heart to welcome a sound of nature in the place where the willows piled up smoke. The perfect combination of erhu and guzheng, one is crisp and pleasant, which reminds people of pouring pearls of all sizes into a plate of jade, and the other is melodious and melancholy, which makes people sad. Close your eyes and let your thoughts drift into a butterfly of Zhuang Sheng, branding the beauty of Shanghai Moon and flying to the realm of condensed smoke in the vast warmth of Lantian.

In my career of more than 40 years, the most profound understanding of winter was when I moved to the beginning of ten years ago. In the past ten years, Baima Lake has become a small village. When I moved, it was still a wilderness. The new building in chunhui middle school stands on the other side of the lake. At the foot of the mountain on this side of the lake are several new bungalows, where Liu Junxin and I live. Besides, there's no one in two or three miles. The family moved from the bustling Hangzhou to this desolate Shan Ye at sunset in November of the lunar calendar, as if immersed in the polar region.

When you are immersed in warm wind, birds and flowers, green mountains and green waters, fertile fields, you will be intoxicated; When you face the golden autumn season, you will be ecstatic. Have you ever thought that abundant spring scenery is heroic after severe cold baptism, but the beautiful scenery in autumn is the crystallization after melting in hot summer?

The wind there roars like a tiger almost every day. Although the house is newly built, its structure is extremely rough. The wind blew in from the gap between the doors and windows, which was particularly sharp. Thick paper was stuck in the gap between the doors and windows, but there was still penetration in the gap between the citron. When it blows hard, close the door at night, and after dinner, the whole family sleeps in bed, listening to the cold wind and the forgiveness of the lake. The small back porch on the hill is my study, which is the least windy room in the whole house. I often pull the Luo Song hat on my head very low and work late into the night under foreign lights. Song Tao roars like a roar, frosty moon acts as a window, and hungry rats squeak about on the dust-bearing floor. At this time, I am deeply interested in bleak poems. I often paddle my head in grey and refuse to sleep, dreaming of the characters in my landscape paintings.

Clothes become messy in wanton enjoyment, like an uncontrollable mood. Will clear sadness, floating in the wind, condensed into a piece of white paper, calling for the echo of innocence, leaving heavy creases, turning into a paper plane, flying in the just visit with the wind as the road. The curved arc in the air is a smile, a cry and an unfinished dream. When the paper plane glides round and round, my thoughts also roam in the ever-lasting temperature. When the plane slowly falls, the memory is shattered in the waves, and the wish hidden in the wind is still lingering melancholy.

June breeze blows, knocking down degraded memories, refreshing, from fingertips to the bottom of my heart. The stiff body swings with the wind when standing. The leaves are dancing gently, the rustling sound is fascinating, people are moved by the warmth and the rhythm of loud voice. I gently shed my sweat stains, looked for the feelings of teenagers, and sent myself clearly into a vague memory.

The wind is a ship from the clouds, full of childhood longing, changing the mind of the water side. So we came to the place where there was water, reflecting the reflection of the wind, but we couldn't catch it, and any trace of melancholy disappeared in the smoke. The wind blows the ripples on the water surface and stretches in the pure sight. Dancing gently and gracefully in the waves, intoxicated and overturned in the humid air.

Now the White Horse Lake is complete from the outside, from mountain to mountain. When the sun is fine, as long as it doesn't blow, it's really warm, unlike winter. The whole family sat in the court in the sun and even had lunch outside. Just like eating in summer, where the sun shines, they move chairs and stools there. Suddenly, the cold wind came, and they had to flee into the room with chairs and stools and shut the door in a hurry. On a normal day, the wind comes around afternoon and stops at midnight. As for the big cold, it will roar for a day and a night, just two or three days. On the coldest day, the mud looks as white as a river, the mountains are purple with cold, and the lake waves are deep blue.

I often dream that I become a cloud, colorful and free to come and go. The wind is my companion, and I swim freely in the ocean of the sky. We learn from the pious Kuafu and race against the sun. The wind told me that we left a story about the wandering of the sky and clouds. I told the wind, don't run, Kuafu is waiting for our triumphant figure in heaven. The wind began to be fierce, and my running began to be fierce, forgetting time and space. The sun tanned my skin and I smiled at the wind. It's nothing. This is a healthy color. During the running, I heard the voice of Kuafu shouting and cheering, and I saw the admiring smile of the sun. The wind says that running is a kind of strength, and we forget why we should chase it. I said, sometimes chasing doesn't need a reason, because it is a pious belief.

On the winding lotus pond, I look forward to the leaves of Tian Tian. The leaves are high out of the water, like an elegant dancer's skirt. Layers of leaves are dotted with some white flowers, some of which bloom gracefully and some are in bud shyly; Like a pearl, like a star in the blue sky, like a beauty who just took a bath. The breeze blew, sending wisps of fragrance, like a faint song on a tall building in the distance. At this time, the leaves and flowers also trembled slightly, like lightning, passing through the lotus pond in an instant. The leaves are close side by side, so there are clear wave marks. Below the leaves is flowing water, which is covered and can't see some colors; Leaves are more exposed to the wind.

I am afraid of snow. On snowy days, the room is particularly bright, and there is almost no need to light it at night. The snow in the distant mountains is enough for me to see for half a month, and I can see it from the window when I look up. However, it snows only once or twice a year in the south, and almost all the winter feelings I enjoy there come from the wind. It can be said that the windy White Horse Lake has geographical reasons. The lake here was originally surrounded by mountains, but there was a gap half a mile wide in the north, so I deliberately opened my pocket to face the wind. The landscape of Baima Lake is not far from ordinary scenic spots, but the wind is different from other places. Everyone who has been there knows how windy it is. Wind has played an important role in the feeling of winter since ancient times, especially in Baima Lake.

The voice of the guzheng, like water that has been cold for a winter, swings into a soft cavity in the spring season, layer by layer, with waves, green and sprouting. Imagine, on the moonlit night of the Twenty-four Bridges, the flute was changed into a guzheng song, gently telling the regrets of the previous dynasty. That was 1000 years ago, the earthly wind and frost shook the southern red beans and frozen the horizon. Why, a little smoky music resounded in every corner of my heart? The guzheng around the ear is the clear water flowing. Every note is like a maid standing with her head down, and her pear-like face falls on the palace wall. Guzheng, like water, carries many dreams of life and floats in the depths of the world of mortals. For many years, it is as beautiful as still water and flowers, and has already thanked the hasty bonus. Guzheng filar silk, as well as the artistic conception of meditation, is coiled into a continuous mountain range, and every peak and place is involved in ancient legends. Will there be a hermit with good spirit in the legend? Stay away from the hustle and bustle all day, think about clouds and smoke, be cautious and independent, blend in with nature, and look down on life. This mountain piled with guzheng music left a rut when Confucius traveled around the world. In the deep and shallow traces, the eternal motto "Zhi Zhi decides, but it can be quiet, quiet and safe, safe and safe, safe and safe."

In my opinion, the pain of erhu is always cold that seeps into the bones, and there are always complaints like blood and tears. In this piece of music, the rhythm of erhu is softened into smoke, flying slowly, flowing like a jade belt, deeply lingering on the mountain top paved with guzheng. Imagine, the clouds are lingering, the peaks are looming, sometimes a corner is exposed, and sometimes all of them are hidden, and the smoke is gently surrounded, like a dream. It is the world-famous Bai Causeway, which extends from a mountain, and the smoke drifts along the embankment to collect dust. Never leave, never give up, only then can we have the beautiful scenery of the West Lake in spring. Erhu bursts, touching and weeping, are plumes of smoke. The smoke generated by the clear water surrounds the water flowing from the guzheng, unwilling to disperse and float away, whispering the desolation of you and me according to the water. A little bit of cohesion, a little bit of entanglement, finally built a broken bridge. Should the broken bridge be covered with residual snow? No, the tenderness of smoke melted the snow, flowed into the magic of the white snake, and witnessed the oath of the Millennium. Erhu's melody is like smoke, around mountains, surrounded by water and mountains, which is a fairyland on earth. During the tour, you can drink a pot of old wine, hang a sword that touches Green around your waist, and take a boat, drifting with the flow, above the clear water and under the blue sky, the wind is full of sleeves and your chest is satisfied. What can you ask for?

Autumn is still strong, and it is early winter in a blink of an eye. The moon walks into the winter night sky with the temperature of autumn.

It gets dark early. After dinner, I went back to the dormitory in the dark. After crossing the hill, I suddenly saw the bright orange early winter moon on the southwest hillside, hanging down completely, huge and fresh, and a beautiful and cordial feeling rose from my heart. In the night, the dark peaks are scattered, the horizon is everywhere, and a ridge crosses the sky to meet the sunset glow; On the edge of faded Yu Xia, the cut image of the mountain is a faint ink painting, while the outline near the mountain is like a heavy ink painting; In the southwest exit direction of the hillside, the mountain is rapidly open and the peaks are undulating, like a black wave, magnificent in the harmonious moonlight; The moonlight over the hillside under the moon and the nearby mountains and rivers give people a good feeling, and this month is designed for this purpose. The moonlight and mountains are so beautiful! Looking at the bright moon, I seem to forget my existence, leaving only a ray of beautiful feelings, which emerged in this moonlight.

It's raining quietly, only the thin sound of rain. The orange-red house, like an old monk in colorful robes, bowed his head and closed his eyes, accepting the baptism of rain. The wet red brick exudes irritating pig blood, which is in sharp contrast with the green laurel leaves under the wall. Gray toad, jumping in the wet and moldy mud; Under the gloomy net of autumn rain, it is the only thing full of joy and life. The mottled gray-yellow pattern on its back corresponds to the dreary sky in the distance, resulting in a harmonious tone. It jumped up with a plop, jumped into the mud from the grass nest, and splashed dark green water. Rain, like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaves a soft web and nets the whole autumn world.

Wandering in the moonlight, a person has to think about what he is worried about or even worried about during the day. At this moment, he has forgotten everything, while some people will remember clearly what he has no time to take care of or even forget during the day. This beautiful moonlight will make the treasure deep in my heart bloom, and even the pain will become beautiful. But this moonlight is more to make me carefree, relax physically and mentally, and make my breathing slightly even and imperceptible. I am like a fish swimming in clear water, stealing happiness, floating in the moonlight, sucking the moonlight, absorbing the light, or stopping or wandering, intoxicated by it.

Rain, like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaves a soft net and nets the whole autumn world. The sky is dark, too, like the roof of an old house covered with cobwebs. The pile of gray clouds in the sky is like white powder peeling off the roof. Under the cover of this old roof, everything looks extremely dull. The green pomegranates, mulberry trees and vines in the garden only represent the prosperity of the past summer, but now they have become the remains of ancient Roman architecture, shivering in the rustling rain and recalling the glorious past. The color of grass has turned into melancholy yellow, and fresh flowers can no longer be found underground; The delicate daffodils planted outside the dormitory wall hung their heads with tears in their eyes and lamented their bad luck there. It was only two sunny days, and it was such a moldy rainy day. Only the sweet-scented osmanthus in the corner, the branches have been decorated with several precious buds as gold, carefully hidden under the green oval leaves, revealing a little hope of new life germination.

Orange moon, orange light, orange light, floating with light frost. In the empty night sky, I feel as if the moonlight is leaking, the rhythm of the moonlight, and the interdependence between human emotions and moonlight fluctuations. In this soft moonlight, as long as you concentrate on one emotion, it seems that you can hear the beautiful song "Butterfly Lovers" and see the elegant and dreamy "Swan Lake" ... Have these works also experienced the birth of moonlight, and the author's inspiration has been nourished and watered by moonlight? Otherwise, how can these beautiful things be restored in this moonlight?

Guzheng Ding Dong, a sound, just like the morning bell and the evening drum ringing several dreams on earth, evokes many real memories. It is the long wind blowing from the dust that swept my slightly confused heart and turned a rare beauty into a seed and implanted it in my heart. I should pay homage to it devoutly and let it flourish and become a towering tree. The erhu is melodious, the sound of the waves is like a thousand years' dust, and the fairy wind is clear, which blows away the dirt in my heart. Those joys and sorrows will generate a meteor, flash a trace and fall into the vast universe. Looking back on the distant past, I only heard condensed smoke and a little crying dust. The night is like water, the music is like water, and my meager sleeves are wet. Is it fun or fun?