Swallows have gone, and there is a time to come again; Willow withered, there is a time to green again; The peach blossom has withered, but it has blossomed again. But, smart, tell me, why are our days gone forever? Someone stole them: who is that? Where is it hidden? They escaped by themselves: where are they now?
I don't know how many days they gave me; But my hands are getting empty. Counting silently, more than 8 thousand days slipped away from me quietly; Like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea, my days are dripping in the stream of time, without sound or shadow. I can't help bursting into tears.
Go wherever you go, and come wherever you come; What's the hurry between going and coming? When I get up in the morning, two or three sunsets shoot into the hut. The sun has feet, and it has moved gently and quietly; I also follow the rotation blankly. So-when washing your hands, the days pass from the basin; When eating, the days pass from the rice bowl; When I was silent, I passed by my eyes. I think he is in a hurry. When I reached out to cover my arm, he passed by the covered hand again. When I was lying in bed at dark, he passed me and flew away from my feet. When I open my eyes and see the sun again, it will be a new day. I covered my face and sighed. But the shadow of the new day began to flash with a sigh.
What can I do in the days when I fly away, in the world of thousands of families? Only wandering, only running; In the rush of more than 8,000 days, what is left except wandering? The past days, like smoke, were scattered by the breeze, like fog, evaporated by Chu Yang; What traces did I leave? Did I leave traces like hairspring? I came into this world naked, and I will go back naked in the blink of an eye? But it can't be flat. Why did you come for nothing this time?
You are very clever. Tell me, why are our days gone forever?
Lotus pond moonlight Zhu Ziqing
I'm very upset these days. Sitting in the yard enjoying the cool tonight, I suddenly remembered the lotus pond passing by every day. Under the full moon, there should always be another lotus pond moonlight.
It looks like that. The moon rises gradually, and the children's laughter on the road outside the wall can no longer be heard; My wife is patting and skipping in the room, humming a sleeping song in a daze. I slipped on a big shirt and ran out the door. Along the lotus pond, there is a winding little cinder road. This is a secluded road; Few people walk during the day, and it is lonely at night. There are many trees around the lotus pond, which is very sad. On one side of the road, there are some willows and some trees with unknown names. On a moonless night, the road is gloomy and a little scary. It's fine tonight, although the moonlight is still very weak. I was the only one on the road, walking around with my hands behind my back. This world seems to be mine; I also like to go beyond my usual self and go to another world. I love excitement and peace; Like to live in groups, like to be alone. Just like tonight, under this boundless moon, a person thinks about everything and thinks nothing, and feels like a free person. What must be done and said during the day can be ignored now. This is the beauty of being alone, and I will enjoy the boundless moonlight with lotus fragrance. 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. Among the layers of leaves, some white flowers are scattered, some bloom gracefully, and some bloom 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 the running water of the pulse (mi), which is covered and can't see some colors; Leaves are more exposed to the wind. 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; However, light and shadow have a harmonious melody, such as a famous song played by Van Gogh Ling. 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. I suddenly remembered the matter of picking lotus. Lotus picking is an ancient custom in the south of the Yangtze River. It seems to have a long history, but it flourished in the Six Dynasties. You can get a rough idea from this poem. Lotus pickers are teenage girls, swinging boats and singing bright songs. Needless to say, there are many lotus pickers. It was a lively season and a romantic season. It is well said in Emperor Liang Yuan's "Lotus Picking Fu": So Yuan, the demon, is willing to row a boat; The snipe (y √) makes the first Xu Hui and passes the feather cup; Zhào can move, algae can hang, and ships can move and sail. Erqi slim waist bundle element, Yan Gubu; After the spring in long summer, the young leaves blossom early, and they are afraid to touch the petticoats when laughing, but afraid to tilt the boat when picking (jū). It can be seen that there were wandering scenes at that time. This is really interesting, but unfortunately we are not happy now. Then I remembered the sentence in "Xizhou Qu": Lotus is picked in Nantang in autumn, and the lotus is over the head; With his head down, he fiddled with the lotus seeds in the water, which were as green as the lake. If there are lotus pickers tonight, the lotus here will be considered "over the top"; You can't just see some shadows of running water. This makes me really miss Jiangnan. -think like this, suddenly look up and feel that it is already your own door; Gently pushed the door in, there was no sound, and my wife had slept for a long time. 1July, 927, Beijing Tsinghua Campus.
Fear of life
Zhang Xiaofeng
It was the longest afternoon in summer, by a lake in Indiana. At first, I sat reading casually, and suddenly I found some trees by the lake. Some white fibers are falling off. Tuans, like cotton, some float on the grass and some float in the lake. I didn't care too much at that time, but it was brought by the occasional wind.
However, gradually I found that the situation was simply surprising. A few hours later, the trees are still sending those small clouds imperceptibly, as if it were an infinite cloud library. The whole afternoon, the whole night, is all over the sky. The situation the next day was exactly the same. I was surprised and shocked.
In fact, when I was in primary school, I knew that there was a kind of seed that was planted by wind-blown fibers. But I only know the answer to a test question. I really saw it in those days, and my heart was full of admiration-an unspeakable awe. I almost met life for the first time-although it was a plant.
I felt the cloud-like seed collide with something in my heart. I can't help but be moved by this kind of luxury, luxury, regardless of cost. Perhaps, in the day and night, only one seed is enough to shade, but the creator is willing to do such a thrilling feat.
When I meditate, I will still think of that lovely lake. I don't know which seed on the lake has become a small tree. At least, I know, one has grown up. That seed, once met a piece of land, became turbid in the heart of a passerby, teaching her how to fear life.
Autumn wind and autumn rain make Lu Yin miserable.
Ling Feng took a boat alone. In the bright morning, the light fog was like smoke, trapping the lakes and mountains, and the dense clouds were lazily distributed in the valley. In the distance, the emerald is faint and the purple fog is long. At this time, the mood is very natural and unrestrained. The boat paddled and sang a tune. The ship has turned to the reeds. LAM Raymond stood at the bow of the boat and looked around. A piece of red was scattered, and several clumps of green reeds were in autumn with eyes closed. She ordered the ship to dock. Stepping on the fine grass, you can kill many birds with one stone and move forward quietly. Suddenly, I heard geese in the sky. When I looked up, I saw the sky was colorless, the fog was hidden, the clouds were crisp, and geese were flying south. It was "every year is easy, the autumn wind rises", and she leaned on the lonely road and lamented.
Many people who visit the mountain are singing leading water songs on the opposite peak, and the tone is sad. Standing in a gloomy mood, she suddenly saw an orphan's grave in the Woods. Around the orphan's grave, there are frosted maple leaves, brighter than blood and sparkling. The top of the tree is sad, as if telling the sadness that will be stiff, making her cry at the bottom of the grass. In this cold autumn sound, she suddenly remembered that she had whispered "autumn rain and sorrow" here five years ago!
She involuntarily walked to the solitary grave, where there was a broken stone tablet with colorful moss and illegible handwriting. She picked up a tile from the ground, scraped off the moss, and revealed the words "the tomb of the female martyr Qiu Jin".
"oh! Heroine ". She whispered! I feel my heart surging. In this loess pit, although there are deep rotten bones buried, she was a wonderful heroine more than ten years ago. That night, the slightly cold west wind blew Song Ke in front of the court, giving off a biting Song Tao, and the rustling autumn rain dripped on the plane leaves. She was sitting under the window, hanging by herself. Suddenly the curtain moved. A woman with a heroic face came in, looking embarrassed. She quickly blew out the foreign lamp on the table and whispered, "Ling Mei is so close, please lead me out from your back garden door. If it is late, they will follow me." LAM Raymond panic without rhyme or reason! They walked through the gravel road in the garden in the rain, turned north and saw the back door outside the bamboo fence. LAM Raymond opened the back door, sent her out, quickly closed the door and ran into the house. Before she could sit still, she heard someone knocking at the front door! She tried to calm down. Look at her mother in the room. She has fallen asleep. Her father hasn't come back yet. The clock on the wall is pointing to ten o'clock. Lao Wang, the doorman, came in and said, there are two detectives outside who want to see their master. I told him that the master was not at home. He said that he seemed to see a woman enter our house just now. This is a revolutionary party. If she is here, she must be handed over at once, or we will all be in trouble. LAM Raymond said, "You tell him that no one has come in. Maybe he's wrong. If you don't believe me, ask him to come in and search ... "
Mother woke up in a dream and asked, "What is it?" Lao Wang told his mother what he had said before, as if he had expected what would happen. He pushed the pillow up and said, "Go next door and call Li Shifu ... if something happens in the middle of the night." Lao Wang was busy inviting Li Shifu, and his mother asked him to negotiate with the two detectives ... This terrible provocative feeling was spared.
Ling Feng quietly told her mother another thing behind her back, and her mother couldn't help sighing: "Your aunt and uncle died young, leaving her with a poor orphan ... She was born arrogant again, and now she has become a revolutionary party, alas! What if something happens? I couldn't help crying ... Ling Feng's father came back at twelve o'clock, and I was worried all night when I heard the news. I don't know where she hid in the storm last night ..... The cloud of fear has been hanging over the Ling Feng family. "
A few days later, a letter in Qiu Jin's handwriting came from the post office. LAM Raymond's father busy busy exhibition read:
My uncle, my parents, your honor:
The night before, I escaped from the palace, when it was stormy. On the muddy road, Cang Qi is running at full speed, and I'm going to take the night train north to escape. Unexpectedly, official website was so dense that he was trapped in it. Hardly had he arrived at the station when he was arrested. Although the charges have not been announced, the future will also run, but he can predict. However, my nephews were lonely since childhood, and their fate changed accordingly. In addition, the country is troubled and devastated, and Lu Chen in China is in danger, so why cherish life! A long time ago, I made a decision with my nephew's ambition. Although the knife is on the top of the axe, if you don't change your mind, it will be destroyed by the bloody man. Who can not rush to make a crack in order to clean the snow and heal the wounded? My nephew, without knowing it, stole the noble deeds of Mu Liangyu Mulan, thinking that he had done something for his country. Unfortunately, he was caught in the French Open, which is also his fate. But I hope the revolution will succeed. Although there is still life, what regrets do you have? Only when you get uncle and aunt rewelding's favor will you be lectured when you get there. Unfortunately, I didn't report it, just in case. Once I die, I will regret it! Don't! Don't! I was in a panic and didn't know what to say. Sukou
Fuan!
Goodbye niece Qiu Jin.
Since the news came, my mother cried all night. The next day, my father asked for help everywhere, but at this time, the court was most jealous of party member, even though she was a woman, she was not forgiven. Seven days later, she will be tied to the court and executed. Father is afraid to tell his mother this amazing information. He only said that he had found someone to intercede, or that he was saved. My mother reads Buddha in the Buddhist temple every day, asking the Bodhisattva for mercy and blessing the poor niece.
These days, the autumn rain is continuous and the autumn wind is rustling. Qiu Jin was imprisoned, handcuffed and tortured day and night. His face is pale and bloodless. She sat in the corner, staring at the wind and rain behind the bars, and then sang sadly: "Autumn wind and autumn rain are so sad!" " "After reading this poem, she closed her eyes tightly, sometimes thinking of the terrible death, but she finally smiled proudly. If her sacrifice can help the revolution succeed, this death is more important than Mount Tai. Is there a better way to die? She thought of here, not only not afraid of death, but also looking forward to the arrival of death. Bright red blood is like dew in a bodhisattva bottle. She can save all living things. The dead body lying next to the guillotine is unforgettable, great and meaningful. ...
On the first day of the execution, her uncle asked a lot of favors to see her, but he could only take a look at the gap between the bars for no more than five minutes. Qiu Jin's face has turned green and yellow at this moment, and her eyes are prominent, which is very tragic and terrible. Her uncle reached in through the fence and grabbed her chain? ? When the hand, could not help but shed tears. Qiu Jin stupefied NingZhu his face, the blood in his eyes, line by line flow on his cheek, she wan smile, she shook her head! She said sadly, "take care, uncle!" " Her heart was broken and she fell to the ground in a daze. My uncle stamped his feet and cried bitterly outside, but five minutes passed and the jailer took him out.
At ten o'clock the next day, people came and went on the road, guards went line by line, and soldiers with guns went line by line, one by one, majestic and murderous, killing one person. How does it taste? Oh! Only God knows that.
Several prison wagons, carrying many young heroes, drove to the execution ground. The last car is the heroine Qiu Jin. LAM Raymond couldn't help sobbing when he saw it from a distance. The bystanders in the street said inexplicably, "Are these all revolutionary parties?" Some seem to understand the meaning of this matter very well, just shaking their heads and sighing slightly: "Poor!" " The heroine of the last prison car appeared, which surprised the people in the street. "Women are also revolutionary parties. This is really unprecedented news! "
The moment these heroes lie on the execution ground, their souls are far away from this noisy world. Qiu Jin's body was buried by her uncle and then stopped at Pujiu Temple.
Soon after, the revolution was successful, and all provinces hung white flags. The smelly Manchu people fled the noble garden and the emperor abdicated. These dead people are very proud, and people from all over the world come to pay a public sacrifice to the seventy-two martyrs in Huanghuagang. Qiu Jin is one of the people who work very hard. She was buried in the West Lake for public discussion, adding a heroic spirit to the wonderful lakes and mountains.
LAM Raymond thought of here, and then looked at the scenery in front of him, only to see the weeds leave, poplars rustling, the best in the world, shuddering, Japan, Africa. Where will this buried soul live? Where is the ideal Republic? Can she not be sad, knock on the broken tablet and sing loudly:
"LAM Raymond ancient road, wild smoke creeping weed,
Where is the evocation!
And this-
Autumn wind and autumn rain are worrying!
……"
When she was sad, Zhang Zi had already arrived. LAM Raymond walked lazily out of the maple forest, walked to the lake, and then looked back. The fresh maple leaves were like the blood of heroes. She couldn't help sighing sadly. On the boat, the boat paddled forward, regardless of people's mood, he still sang a minor tune, only the oblique wind and drizzle on the lake helped her sigh!
Genius dream Zhang Ailing
I am an eccentric girl, and I have been regarded as a genius since I was a child. I have no other goal in life except developing my talent. However, when my childhood fantasy faded away, I found that I had nothing but the dream of genius-it was all the quirks of genius. The world forgave Vane's barbarism, but they won't forgive me. With a little American publicity, maybe I will be called a child prodigy. I could recite Tang poems when I was three years old. I still remember standing unsteadily in front of an old man's cane chair in the Qing Dynasty, chanting "A merchant girl hates the motherland, but still sings flowers in the backyard crossing the river" and watching his tears roll down. When I was seven years old, I wrote my first novel, a family tragedy. When I come across words with complicated strokes, I often ask the chef how to write them. The second novel is about a lovelorn girl who committed suicide. My mother criticized that if she wanted to commit suicide, she would never take a train from Shanghai to the West Lake to commit suicide. But because of the poetic background of the West Lake. Finally stubbornly saved this. My only extracurricular reading materials are The Journey to the West and several fairy tales, but my mind is not bound by them. When I was eight years old, I tried a novel similar to Utopia, entitled Happy Village. Happy village people are bellicose plateau people. Because of their feats in conquering Miao people, they were chartered by Emperor China, exempted from taxes and given autonomy. Therefore, Happiness Village is a big family isolated from the outside world, cultivating and weaving by itself, and preserving the lively culture of tribal times. I sewed half a dozen exercise books together, expecting a masterpiece, but I soon lost interest in this great subject. Now I still have many frames of my illustrations, introducing the services, architecture and interior decoration of this ideal society, including the library, "martial arts hall", chocolate shop and roof garden. The public dining room is a gazebo in the lotus pond. I don't remember whether there is a cinema or socialism there-they seem to have a good life without the products of these two civilizations. When I was nine years old, I hesitated whether I should choose music or art as my lifelong career. After watching a movie about a poor painter, I cried and decided to become a pianist and play in a grand concert hall. I am extremely sensitive to colors, notes and words. When playing the piano, I imagined eight notes with different personalities, wearing bright hats and dancing hand in hand. I learn to write articles with strong colors and sonorous rhymes, such as Pearl Grey, Dusk, Graceful and Graceful, Brilliant and Melancholy, so I often make stacking mistakes. Until now, I still love watching Strange Tales from a Lonely Studio and tacky Paris fashion reports, just for this attractive word. I got free development at school. My self-confidence grew stronger and stronger until I was sixteen, when my mother came back from France and looked at my daughter whom I hadn't seen for years. "I regret taking care of your typhoid fever," she told me. "I'd rather see you die than live to suffer everywhere." I found that I couldn't peel apples, and I learned to mend socks after hard work. I'm afraid of going to the barber shop, meeting guests and trying on clothes for the tailor. Many people tried to teach me to knit, but none of them succeeded. After living in a room for two years, I still asked blankly where the bell was. I went to the hospital for injections by rickshaw every day for three months, but I still didn't know the way. To sum up, in the real society, I am equal to a waste. My mother gave me two years to learn to adapt to the environment. She taught me to cook; Wash clothes with soap powder; Practice walking posture; Look at people's glances; Remember to close the curtains after lighting; Study facial expressions in the mirror; Don't tell jokes without humor genius. I show amazing stupidity in my common sense of dealing with people. My two-year plan is a failed experiment. My mother's painful warning didn't affect me except that my mind was out of balance. There is a part of the art of life that I can't appreciate. I know how to watch Smart Clouds in July, listen to Scottish soldiers playing bagpipes, enjoy rattan chairs in the breeze, eat salted peanuts, enjoy neon lights on rainy nights, and reach out from the double-decker bus to pick the green leaves at the top of the tree. When no one handed over, I was full of joy in life. But I can't overcome this little distress for a day. Life is a gorgeous robe full of fleas. Brilliant, brilliant, magnificent melancholy, melancholy bagpipes, bagpipes