Poetry is a mysterious thing. I think that the thick snow, the lonely birch forest and the distant hometown are the quietest in winter. I am reminded of the poetic film "Flying South in Wild Goose" in the former Soviet Union. When I watched this movie, the song kept ringing in my mind: "There is white snow in the quiet village, pigeons flying under the cloudy sky, and those two names are engraved on the birch tree." They vowed to love each other for life ... "
This is a sad love story. A young man whose name was carved on a birch tree died in another birch forest in the war. The girl waited eagerly, the snow was falling in the birch forest, and two souls who were faithful to love reunited over the birch forest. This movie made me fall in love with the deep, resolute, realistic, romantic, affectionate and sad style full of Russian art.
I wonder if many people, like me, have always had deep feelings for the Soviet Union. This is a symbolic Soviet Union, not a real Soviet Union in history. This beautiful Soviet Union is good at singing, dancing and playing harmonica, covered with birch forests. I remember when I was a child, I bought a harmonica and spent 15 yuan's living expenses, which was astronomical to me.
But I still can't play music. But I still like to put that harmonica in my pocket and run with it in the forest. Silver-white trunks and green leaves rise and fall with the peaks, like harmonicas singing in different shades ... I have been looking for a birch tree and finally found you in the depths of my memory. It's a feeling that I don't give up easily and try my best to get it back. You clearly see my missing, and take it with you, towards the distant.
You are the eye in my memory, seeing through the lonely forest. Rows of fragments, sometimes the whole leaf is covered and embraced by them. At the foot is a quiet lake or naughty stream, with moss and fine wild flowers and green grass crouching around them. In the warmth of sunshine and the brightness of moonlight, birch trees are covered with thick oil paintings. White clouds floating in the blue sky, that vague moment, fell, died or walked into another heaven. After being shot, I didn't see blood spray. ...
At that beautiful moment, you saw the clouds floating over the quiet birch forest, and they shuttled beautifully. In an instant, I saw my beloved girl. You see yourself walking towards her, in the birch forest where she is waiting for you, and then hug and kiss. Black and white story, that touch, that obsession, that delay in dispelling waiting. Although there is no tombstone to prove young life and beautiful love, the name engraved on the birch tree is becoming clearer and clearer, because it has been integrated with the birch tree and can no longer be erased.
You are a cloud in my memory, drifting with my thoughts to the quiet birch forest. On a cloudless day in Wan Li, I don't know how my thoughts drifted there. The wind rustles the autumn leaves, and I miss you one by one. The change of seasons makes the stream know the arrival of autumn at the earliest. People don't know when autumn will come, but the stream knows. When the first autumn leaves fell into the river and flowed away along the riverbed, the birch cried until only white branches were left, and there was that melancholy temperament. This temperament reminds me of the beautiful legends of Casablanca, Broken Bridge, The English Patient, Sicily, Cold Mountain, Pearl Harbor ... The vows of eternal love were riddled with bullets again and again.
All good or bad love has moments that can make people cry, even if it is only a short moment, such as clouds rolling and clouds relaxing. In the face of great disaster, a woman who is always crowded in the crowd, a woman who is always waiting, moved me again and again. For those who have tears in their eyes but are firm, they once had love, lost love and were hurt by love. It seems that the Russian tone is firm and deep, which aroused my feelings for love in these wars.
Every time I had a good dream, I got up late in the morning, opened the window, saw the blue sky outside the window, and recalled the birch forest in my hometown. Trees have eyes and can see birch trees floating in the distance. I'm just looking for a birch tree with your name engraved on it. ...
I would rather lie quietly on the grass covered with leaves and watch the gorgeous clouds in the sky drift away and then fall.