Grass Prose by the Qingqing River 1 petal rain, rose red falling all over the path, busy for two years, not surfing the Internet. No sooner had he finished rationing than he met his former blogger when the dust settled. At that time, he was keen on his solitaire, which made her feel very free and warned her not to give up halfway. She is speechless, but she has been working hard to do it, and she will feel at ease after working hard.
I don't remember the day when I met him, but I happened to meet her when I answered the dragon that day. From then on, he regarded her as a friend. He told her that he never liked to drop in and comment under other people's blogs, and she was just like him. They communicated with Solitaire and Yi Jiangnan and gradually learned that he was a teacher. Now he has transferred to Guangzhou. Up to now, she doesn't know what he does or what his name is. He said it didn't matter.
About poetry, they discussed it together. Just when she was in high spirits, she closed her previous blog and went to a new place. And he also stopped blogging and disappeared from the blog, that is, at that time, he asked her for her phone number.
He is a water plant, she is a grass, they are all grass, and they are all by the river, evergreen all the year round, and the wind can't blow the frost. He doesn't have any grandiloquence, but sends her messages every day. She often ignores him and rarely has a chance to reply. With a big belly, he never cares, saying that faint friendship lasts the longest. When she asked him if he could believe in long-term friendship, he said, I don't say forever, I just take every step firmly. Well said, promises are unreliable. Only by laying a good foundation and building it layer by layer can there be enduring skyscrapers. Simple words contain profound truth.
It's maple red day again. They have known each other for a year. He still insists on daily information, and she still goes back occasionally. He still keeps his original style. Sometimes, she wants to know why he knows everything about her because he is buried beside her. He saidno. When she was sad, he sent a message of comfort. Make her less upset. "Smiling when misunderstood is a kind of accomplishment; It is magnanimous to smile calmly when you are wronged; Smiling when you suffer is open-minded; It is wisdom to laugh at yourself when you are in a dilemma; The philosophical smile when helpless is a realm; A calm smile is an atmosphere; It is a kind of confidence to smile calmly when you are despised; " It is a kind of free and easy to smile when you are lovelorn. This sentence that she kept is my motto. Although I can't do it all, I will try my best to cultivate myself and be free and easy.
"The world won't care about your self-esteem, people will only see your achievements. Don't overemphasize your self-esteem before you achieve something! " Very thorough. "The winner is king, and the loser is the enemy!" It took a lot of effort to understand the meaning. People only value the results, who cares about the hardships of your process? If you make the same effort, you may sweat more than the winner. In the end, only the dazzling aura will attract people to sing. Naturally, someone will sum up the process, and the loser is just a martyr.
She is a person who has suffered and lost, knows the pain of missing and the regret of fate. She silently punished her negligence and lived an isolated life. After years of painstaking cultivation, I have realized all kinds of life, especially for those who are surprised by nature, their minds are clear. One year, she went to a place in Guizhou, climbed the mountain of Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau and acquiesced in Buddhism. If she meets a good marriage again in this life, she will no longer turn a blind eye. She should cherish her hard-won efforts and go to the west with both hands. I don't ask for love once in my life, so that she can walk safely on thick shoulders without fear and heartbreaking pain. Maybe she's naive. How can there be such love in the world? But she didn't believe it. She believes that the true feelings in the world may be that she has never met! In this regard, he has always encouraged her that love can be romantic, but it can't be wasted. Don't just hold hands, let alone let go. She was engraved in the notes of her heart.
"Fantasy and reality face to face, always painful. Either you are knocked down by pain, or you have to step on it! " People have beautiful ideals at every stage of life. Once beyond reality, it becomes an unrealistic fantasy. The collision between the two will inevitably lead to pain. How to face pain, either decadent or reborn in pain. Everyone's road to growth cannot always be sunny, and it is inevitable that they will encounter wind and rain. Only those who have been baptized by wind and rain can cross the thorns and embrace the gorgeous rainbow.
These are all from him. No matter where they come from, he collects anecdotes about life and work from different channels for her to share with the forgotten people. He sent some funny materials today. She asked him to post information on his blog in the future to witness how long this friendship lasted. He said that they were all searched from the Internet, which shows that he had a good intention to keep her life from being depressed.
She doesn't ask his name, true friendship doesn't need to be so detailed, so he will continue to be invisible, an unknown friend, just for an acquaintance.
He Qingqing's cursive prose 2 I
Wandering in the world of mortals for most of my life. I always wanted to escape from this remote place when I was a child. I didn't expect to go home to visit relatives decades later. When I leave, I always burst into tears, reluctant to part with my old mother in the hospital bed, reluctant to part with every grass and tree in the country, reluctant to part with the shiny green jade grass. The river flows slowly by me, jumping my mood and touching my heartstrings.
The grass is green, my heart is crystal clear, and the dew on the grass is as cold as spring water and as sweet as meat. I always touch the crystal lamp in the sun with my fingers jokingly. My nails are tender, white and red. I often look at my nails like this. As soon as my mother is free, she carefully cuts the crescent-shaped nails into a curved moon with fine scissors.
The dew on the grass is my dew. I am lying on the bank of youth, reading Li Bai's "The foot of the bed is so bright, will it have frosted?" Looking up at the moon and sinking back, I suddenly remembered home. Such a poem left a deep impression on me; Such a poem, let me remember my life; Such a poem makes me lament the pain and lingering homesickness.
Cattle leisurely eating tender grass, big mouth with a long reddish-brown tongue, sticking out from time to time, licking the sweet stream. The green Yuxi flows quietly, fast and slow. Its voice, as beautiful as a wind chime and melodious as a flute, seems to have both, but it seems incomplete, so why is its singing so familiar to me? The river is very wide, and fishermen often support small fishing boats and sing the high notes peculiar to men in the downstream countryside. The stones in the river stand in twos and threes, diverting the oncoming stream from time to time and turning it into a whirlpool.
There are many kinds of fish in the river, and villagers often come here to fish with their little grandchildren. In spring, the rain keeps falling, the river rises, and the elderly people carry their backs and hold long bamboo fishing rods. A white line is hung on the end of the rod, and a fish hook is tied to the line. Earthworms and grass are sitting on the hook. The fish and shrimp in the river are full, and soon, a big carp is hooked.
At that time, I was in junior high school and my third sister was in primary school. She is cute and naughty. As soon as she left school, she rushed to the river and threw her schoolbag at me. Like a thirsty fish on the shore, she flew to the river, sank and suddenly disappeared, scaring me to look into the river. Soon, she came out like a mermaid, and my heart felt a little safe. She shouted, "Third Sister, be careful!" Third sister didn't seem to hear my persuasion. Like a little frog, she shuttles through the green, transparent and beautiful river with a flexible and vigorous posture.
two
The river runs endlessly, bypassing one mountain after another. It is our lifeblood, our patron saint, our' mother river'.
In summer, there are many clothes to be worn. My mother took me, carrying two baskets of clothes, squatting by the river, slapping again and again. Mother's hand has a lot of cocoons and a lot of blood. She poured a basket of clothes on the white and smooth stone that had been beaten countless times, quickly crossed a dress in the river and washed it several times, then picked up a heavy wooden stick and cut it from top to bottom according to the grain of the clothes, as fast and accurate as chopping meat. Mother is dressed simply, a gray coat and a pair of black trousers. I don't know how many times this dress has been tossed in this river, just like how many times my mother struggled at a difficult age; I don't know how many times this dress has been beaten on this river bank, just like how many times a mother was folded by impermanent fate for her child's life during the famine; I don't know how many times my mother sewed clothes under kerosene lamps in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, just like my mother told herself that she must persist until her son was admitted to college.
For a long time, I went to school with my little brother on my back. This is my mother's last child. At that time, my mother was almost forty, and she was entangled in farm work, so she had to give my brother to me. Every day before dawn, when the rooster crows, I will help my brother who sleeps in the cradle change his wet pants, scrub them clean, cook some thin rice porridge, drink some for himself, feed him a little, and then take Wowotou on the road.
The morning breeze is blowing gently, and the humid air makes me meditate on the smoke rising from every household at dawn, and makes me look forward to crossing the rickety river-crossing bridge. I walked humming all the way. Soon, I smelled the aroma coming from the chimney, which was the unique aroma of rice paste in the countryside. Usually I go up the mountain to cut wood, and I cut it for a long time. I went over mountains and mountains, bypassing every kind of forest, holding a sickle that I don't know how many times I ground, and I cut it hard. I am sweating all over, just like taking a few baths, but those baths are all salt baths. My head, eyes, waist and body are all salt. At this time, my mouth is like a fire, and it is about to crack. Finally found a family and asked for a bowl of rice porridge to drink. Suddenly, I seemed to have gone from hell to heaven, and my throat suddenly cooled a lot. This is my deep affection for rice porridge. Up to now, the blood of rice porridge is still flowing in my body, and I can't eat anything else. I have diarrhea when I eat it. Only this rice porridge can make me drink for more than 60 years and extend my life to the present.
The sky opened its white clouds, orange sunshine filled the sky, and I stepped onto the bridge. Dark green color, streams gurgling, birds singing. I can't swim like Third Sister, and I don't have the courage to jump into the river to play. Every time I cross this bridge, I get scared. This bridge is a handrail made of rope, and pieces of wood are strung together with rope below. The boards creak when you walk. Where there is running water, the vegetation is more lush and the songs of birds are more beautiful. I don't know when, the fragrance of bloom has floated from the deep valley, and the ducks in the farm have swam under the bridge in droves.
Where is the fragrance of flowers? In which valley? Seeing that it was still early, I struggled to cross the bridge and walked deep into the forest. I will keep walking until the river blocks my way, but I will see camellias smiling and nodding in the wind everywhere. Colorful, red, yellow, white, pink, like the fairy sisters in the myth, wearing long sleeves and singing songs from heaven and earth. Those slightly rolled petals, like their different dances, are soft, unrestrained, subtle and affectionate. Dark eyes make people feel uneasy. Since then, every time I cross the bridge, as long as I smell the intoxicating flowers and imagine them being shy and unrestrained at that time, my fear will be reduced a little.
three
Now, my hometown is not the original hometown. The wide river narrows; That jasper-like luster has definitely faded; The clear county town is contaminated with black sewage and garbage. On the river, there are no fishermen, calves or ducks, the happy figure of Third Sister wandering around the river, the back of my mother playing clothes by the river and the pleasant happiness when I herded cattle.
Now, the rickety wooden bridge has been replaced by a white cement bridge, and people no longer have to be afraid to cross the river; There are all kinds of high-rise buildings on both sides of the river, which are no longer adobe houses in the past.
You gain something, you lose something. People live the life of city people, with delicacies, birds and animals, and are "frequent visitors" on the dining table; Television, computer, refrigerator and washing machine have long been common household appliances for villagers; Roads extend in all directions, and all kinds of foreign cars and domestic cars fly on them; Well-off life is close to rural life.
What is lost is irreparable, but what is gained is precious. The environment has deteriorated, but rural people still retain the simplicity and beauty of the previous generation, leaving the imprint of flowers. I believe that in the near future, my hometown will usher in the urbanization process again and again. When the river flows from one end of the river to the other, when the river overflows, when the clear water reflects the blue sky again, when small animals swim happily in the river, and when people can play in the river again, then my hometown will be a new hometown, a hometown that has been inherited and changed greatly.
How I hope that the old mother in the hospital bed can see all this, and how I hope that our next generation can often come back to see the hometown where their ancestors lived. How simple and beautiful.
I'm traveling south along a stream. I wonder where the river ends. I was at a loss, just going south along the river.
For eighteen years, a voice in my head has been urging me to "go straight along this river and you will get everything you want", but in fact, I have been doing this for more than ten years. However, there is no reason not to wet your shoes when you often walk by the river, so the accident happened quietly.
With the passage of time, after years of baptism, everyone is more or less mature and steady. But it doesn't seem to include me, because I am a "prisoner" of time, and I was eliminated by myself, so I am like an alien, standing outside that circle, at a loss, still walking by that river, watching the passing ships pass by quickly, but I can only watch it like that, feeling the helplessness at the moment, the deep sense of powerlessness, like a bug, tearing my heart and torturing that one.
Yes, that deep sense of powerlessness. "Do what you know you can't do" seems to mean people like me. But sometimes I think too much and feel ridiculous. Isn't that grass in the river? It's actually quite good to be a grassroots who is "not enterprising and eager for comfort" quietly. There are no big winds and waves, life is comfortable and leisurely, and body and mind are liberated. Maybe live to 999? ! Having said that, I'm still in The Journey to the West. I seem to be looking for something lost, and everything has no end.
Grass by the green river, I travel downstream to the south and follow my heart.
Over the mountains, there are many pedestrians on the road, and they walk together, but they can't get to know each other in the end, just because the pace is too slow to keep up with the rhythm. While a person is annoyed, he is glad that at least the scenery along the way has been appreciated.
The scenery along the way is beautiful and attractive, but I seem to have lost more. The scenery by the stream remains the same, but it's a pity that things have changed. Fall in the beautiful scenery, wander in the scenery along the way, and quietly lose your goals and ideals. I am too lazy to pay attention to the secular, and suddenly want to become immortal and transcend the secular.
Perhaps, this is the so-called life, life has never abandoned anyone, just abandoned itself.
"Essays on the Grass by the Qingjiang River" 4 Remember the days when we were together? By the green river, we are holding hands, and I gently say to you, dear, I will love you all my life. You raised your head slightly, looked into my eyes, and you said that you believed in me and would accompany me to my old age and then die together. Then we hugged each other tightly. From behind you, I saw the wind blowing your long hair, dancing on the green grass, and the river singing happily. You picked two grasses and told me that you want to have the present, not lose it. You want grass, you want rivers, and you want us to be together forever. Then you shed tears, tears hit my clothes, I kissed your tears dry and smiled and said to you, yes.
Eight years later, I came back here, but where are you? I am the only lonely figure on the green grass, looking at everything familiar and unfamiliar. Without your long hair, your tears and your innocent face, I can't hear my heartbeat. The wind is still blowing, with your voice eight years ago, blowing to my ear, gently telling me that you will always accompany me to my old age and then die together. I took out the withered grass and said to the wind gently, I will love you all my life. I hope the wind will blow my words into the sky and tell you gently that I am still waiting for you here. Green grass and clear river are all here waiting for us to come back, but why can't you come back with me? Didn't you say that? We will grow old together and then die together, but why can't you wait for me? It took them a long time to know that you had been away for a long time. You know, in the days without you, you have always been the driving force of my life. At every moment of life and death, you gave me the courage to live, because I want to come back, come back here, take my future, take my achievements, go back to the grassland, go back to the river, hold your hand again and hug you tightly. Look at that. I don't care how long it takes. I just want you back. I don't want my future, I don't want any achievements, and I will even use everything I have to get along with you forever. I was really wrong. Why do I want the future? Why should I achieve it? Without you, I will lose the whole world. I was really wrong. Will a person who has lost the world have a future? I was really wrong. I won't leave you, knowing how fragile and vulnerable you will be without me, but I still left to pursue the so-called future and the so-called achievements. Fourteen-year-old you, with your defiled body and grass in your hand, floated down from the sixth floor, leaving only a suicide note full of grief and indignation. You said you really wanted to rest your head on my shoulder by the river and cry happily again, and then die. However, I am not with you, but you know what? I don't care about your health at all. I love not your body, but your heart. You shouldn't leave me. You shouldn't treat me like this. At least you have to give me a goal to pursue Even for a hundred years, as long as I know you still exist, I will wait. On the green grass and by the river, I will guard our eternity and this place that belongs to us only. I will wait for you silently until your arrival.
But what do you want me to do now? Is it still going on? I don't want to believe all this. I don't think you should break your promise. You didn't accompany me to my old age and then die together. You left alone, and it took you so long to tell me the news of your going. The only protagonist in the rest of the past scenes is me. Is it still meaningful?
The grass by the green river is gently blown up by the wind at dusk, telling my past with your little worries. I vaguely heard you say that you remember everything before and then die with me. You said you were waiting for me there, waiting for me to accompany you forever.
She is an unknown and unnoticed grass; She grew up by a small pond and looked so unremarkable. However, she is not alone, because there are countless such grasses around her, and people are used to calling her the grass beside the Qingjiang River.
"The grass by the Qingqing River is not old, and the wildfire never consumes them, and the wind and rain can't blow it down." The grass by the green river gives off a fragrance.
Although she is not as dazzling as wild flowers on the roadside or as tall and straight as poplars, her spirit of "wildfire never ends, and wind and rain can't blow it down" is worth learning.
A green meadow is full of vitality. There are even a few drops of water on the tip of the grass near the green river. A drop of spring water on the tip of the grass is cold and sweet, slowly revealing a crystal clear curve.
I can't help touching every grass by the Qingjiang River. The slippery feeling brings a little comfort to my fingers. Soon, a cow named "Cleisthenes" came running from a distance. Maybe he got separated from his master, or something. It kept screaming and running around like "Cleisthenes".
Finally, the cow seems thirsty. It went to a small pond. The cow went to the middle of the pond. It seems to like the temperature in the pond. It keeps throwing water with its tail, and the spray keeps splashing on the grass, forming small drops and then flowing out a beautiful curve.
"Qinghe green grass, continuous Philip Burkart Road. A husband who is far away from home can not miss him all day, but he can see him in his dream soon. I dreamed that I was nearby, and suddenly I felt that I was in a foreign land ... "This is a poem written by Han Yuefu, Drinking Horses in the Great Wall Cave. The translation of this poem is probably like this: the river is covered with lush grass, and people who go out can see it from a distance, unconsciously reminding the poet of missing people far away. If the grass can evoke a person's thoughts, then perhaps the grass growing by the pond can evoke a person's feelings better.
"Wildfire never completely devoured them, but they grew taller in the spring breeze." The grass by the river is tenacious. No matter rain or wind, no matter spring, summer, autumn and winter, she always grows silently by the pond. Like the guardian of the pond, she stuck to her post.
The road along the Green River is tortuous, but her future is full of light. She only relies on poor and wet soil to fight against fate and rocks. After tenacious struggle, she finally appeared in the bright world with hope.
"No flowers, no tree height, I am an unknown grass ..." Humble identity, no fragrant flowers, no tall and straight body, no strong body, no gorgeous colors, but her tenacious spirit and tenacious vitality, this is grass, grass growing by the river.
The grass by the green river, she can't enjoy the nourishment of fertile soil, the fragrance of flowers and the magnificence of grassland. However, she has tenacious vitality. She is not afraid of being trampled. She just stood quietly by the pond. Maybe at this moment, what is she chatting with her relatives and friends?
She may not be the most tenacious, but her spirit deserves our affirmation and study. As a geological youth, we should have the spirit of "wildfire never goes out, wind and rain can't blow down" on the grass beside the Qingqing River, never give up and make some contributions to the country within our power.