If the blue-and-white porcelain is filled with half a bowl of newly fallen snow, after the spring warm snow melts, it can be seen that the lotus at the bottom of the bowl is elegant, and koi fish fish are jumping and playing among the lotus leaves; The cool moonlight moistens a simple letter paper with a thin memory of time, which will spread far without fragrance.
Qing Huan, obviously shallow, light, simple but elegant, but also quiet and peaceful.
It was Xu Donglin who said, "Spring came late, and time was lonely and lazy. I went out to see flowers."
It was Shen Shanshu who said, "When you are old, let go of the world and watch fireworks. When you are a mountaineer with bamboo poles and shoes, go to the market to sell wine, drink tea in teahouses, chat in hutongs, watch women pound clothes under the moon, dance sleeves among flowers, chat about time and stories. "
That's Bai Mei "drinking a cup of tea in the lazy afternoon sunshine until it's tasteless;" It will be a song, which sounds without rhyme; Read a book without words; I have no intention of loving someone. "
Qing Huan is clearly the joy overflowing in my heart. I wrote in the article Su Jin that I stood under the eaves holding a meaningful lotus flower until the rain stopped.
Low eyebrows, shallow qinghuan with lotus qingfen floating in the cold night wind, "saw him walking in the rain, and his clothes were wet. We wrote down each other's names and smiled at each other as if we had known each other for years ... "
When the word Qing Huan was read out, there was a cool silence between the lips and teeth. Perhaps, the warmth of shallow joy in the fleeting time is also sparse?
I vaguely remember the plot of a poem written by Xiangyun and Daiyu's concave crystal pavilion on Mid-Autumn Festival night. During the dinner, they left Jia and others to find a secluded place. Through a cold moon, they played the long flute, looked at the crane shadow in the Leng Yue pond, and admired Leng Yue's buried flowers, which was rare.
That shallow joy falls on the brow, but it has a vague meaning. I know that when I turn around, flowers, people, the moon and the night are separated from each other. Just don't know, who picked up the scattered Qing Huan here? For who? For who?
Qing Huan, Qing Huan, is a shallow joy, with a touch of sadness as agreed, very light, very light, like a thin cloud, quietly engraved in the brow.
When he is old, he will be young and far away from the world, but he can just drink a cup of tea, walk in the snow, listen to the wind, look at the flowers and enjoy the moon.
Or, on rainy days, you don't have to rush about for trifles, just pick a quiet corner, hold a book "Poems with the Garden", turn over page by page, and don't want to know more, just to love the graceful rhyme in those beautiful poems.
When I am tired, I will put my books aside and sleep quietly. I don't know how many flowers will be spent. Qing Huan geometry?
I want to come, Qinghuan is delicious, really good. Let me be indifferent to glitz, calm down, wake up in the afternoon, have time to cook rain, cook a happy life and think about it with you.
Qing Huan Diary A Rain in 2 yuan
You don't need to look for it. In April, you stood under the pear flower, with a clear moon skirt, fringed eyebrows and smoky eyes, looking at me. I'm sure you must be the devil in the smoke, charming, and you lock me in, full of pear-like fragrance.
I stopped at once.
The waist of the willow branches is graceful, overlapping your demon charm. When I cut off a piece of clear water, I wrote down you, like smoke, covering the April day. I began to feel uneasy from the complex of a peach blossom, and the sky was boundless blue. Your city is already a pear flower cutting clouds. At first, it was pure and happy.
Qingming rain is a woman's clean eye spring, is it beautiful? My eyes are wet when I look up and close my eyes. I don't say my heart is wet.
In fact, I have no ability to bring all the things you have come and gone into my fleeting time. All the past years are at the bottom of my pen and have been vicissitudes. Like me, you have a smoking heart, and every piece is silent. In their respective April, you washed the peaches and pears, slowly faded away, waiting for the old scenery.
My story, like a sealed bagpipe, sits in front of that window, letting the wind blow and the windowsill fall, making its eyes lonely. My heart, should life be like this? Lonely, prosperous, a dream, clear and rainy footsteps, watching apricot flowers fall all over the ground, suddenly, there is sadness.
Never dare to let the inner loneliness wet the bead curtain. What is used to weave this April story? A peach blossom or a curtain of rain? Is it your wet poem or clear rain?
Don't tell me, when the wind blows, the flowers will understand, so I'll write an understanding, predestined relationship, this clear rain.
Meet with time
I understand that one day, we will be apart.
Then choose this April, when the willow blossoms are bright, the peach withers, the pear blossoms bring rain, and the willow leaves without tears. The warbler's voice, from the other end of the reed, passes through the spring water, not the willow embankment. Far away, it wets the skirt, wets the blue and white, wets the smoky blue sky. That's missing, and that's the eye that can't bear to say goodbye.
I'm lonely. As I get older, I'm not afraid with or without you. You are quiet on the other side. I look at you from April's smiling eyes. Fengyun is laughing, so are you. There is a smell in the world, which is not only a clear joy. I put a piece of writing paper with wet apricot flowers on the door, waiting for the wind, waiting for the rain, waiting for your skirt to come, picking it up and holding it in my arms.
We are all happy. We are all looking for happiness. In fact, no matter the bitterness in the world, it is the precipitation of the course and the agarwood of the years. Let's call it a gorgeous walk. It is often said that the heart is old and the mind is weak. Maybe this is a portrayal of my mood. Usually three articles a day, I have to go through scrutiny and careful revision before I can show them to people. I can't do it now. Even words like hello, good night and thank you are too lazy to knock, and I feel very fake and pale after saying them. Smooth and calm, but also become sophisticated. Time is really cheap, it can cut off your edges and corners, your brilliance, your passion, your unruly and rebellious bit by bit. Only the colors as calm as the setting sun, the slowly flowing river.
Cigarettes, is this ourselves?
I am old, and I have my moments when I am old. I promise you, young hearts, meet in time, our past together, our memories, our stories and pains.
Time is getting older, and April is bright for you.
Promise me that at the moment I leave you, I will be with you with pure joy and peace.
To settle down in this world.
How can I put it? I hope your life is stable.
Thousands of miles away, quiet inside.
My little girl is simple and elegant only when she is young and talented. Outside your city, your fragrance and tranquility are my safety. Our words and feelings are all online, but we need a stable life, a small life circle, a few girlfriends who can talk to each other and a quiet and ordinary mood. None of this seems to be what we need. That painting, we still need the blooming and happiness of years and time. After experiencing some modest setbacks, we have also strengthened some of the beauty and beliefs we advocated.
Maybe your eyebrows are foggy. At that moment, seeing the lush in an old song, our hearts began to get wet. You lock a heart, bury it in the obscurity of that old song, turn your back and gently erase it.
Yes, the world is stable, so we can be in Ning Ran, and our souls can find peace in this floating world. We think about life with words, feel beauty with our souls, look for happiness with our eyes, and listen to birds and insects with our ears. The breath of the world is pure joy.
When I raised my pen, my heart had been extinguished for a long time, far away.
On a sunny rainy day, I dare not show my wet feelings to you. I can only write my blessings and my sincere wishes with clean pen and ink. In fact, you will understand if I don't tell you. It is said that a beautiful woman's breath belongs to the sky in spring and April. I know that the pear fragrance in your city has been dyed.
The palm of time is spring, the depth of spring is seclusion, and the end of seclusion is stillness. The quietness here is saturated with the fragrance of peach blossoms and pear blossoms, and dyed through the lightness and happiness of time.
The sky outside the window, smoky blue memories, began to return to the tide.
I began to meditate silently with words. I know you like it, so do I. How nice, a little quiet, a little quiet, and a little lonely and taciturn. There is a little less pleasure in ease, and a little more happiness in loneliness and bitterness. This is what you gave me and I gave you, a little warmth of friendship.
At this time, I suddenly found that if you live well, I will be very sunny, not so vulgar, and even a little touched and sad.
I have omitted a lot of details about you, only remembering that April is gentle and humid, and it will rain as soon as I look up, leaving only a pleasant night.
In April, you should remember that happiness will follow.
Smoke and cigarettes may be really dull, or they may be tired. My words can no longer stir up waves in my heart. Maybe I'm really old and I'm starting to talk. Your birthday is up to you, and only happiness will accompany you. Only when the world is stable will there be these words and this place be at ease. Cigarettes cigarettes, happy birthday, don't say anything, just be happy. )
Diary of Qing Huan 3. The thick smoke blurred your eyes and mine. No matter how busy you are, it will still be a trace of sadness floating in the endless sky.
Rainy season, sadness, flower season, shallow memory
It kept raining in Mao Mao, and the sound of dripping rain echoed in my ears.
Blue mist in the sky constitutes a lonely scene, blurring the rugged road ahead.
The seemingly real and unreal world, the seemingly sad and happy memories, can never be sure that it is my wandering thoughts.
Just like I am now, I have mixed feelings about my deja vu face, my moved sadness, and my unspeakable feelings.
I have never understood everyone, let alone myself.
I hope you are the old man I have been missing, and the lights are dim.
I don't want to study, I don't want to stay, I just tell myself that I can still live proudly after you leave.
What you left me was a cold back. Why should I beg for parting?
The past will never come back, and what comes back will not be as perfect as the original.
I have never been sad, but I have always been proud of my strong and indifferent thoughts.
I am still the original me, but you have long been lost in the future I never expected. I can't expect, and I can't imagine.
If so, we are still separated by a distant future. Even if you are at the end of this time, I will stare behind you and it will not change.
There is never an ending, and it will not end warmly.
That bright smiling face, I think I will never have it again, and the past morning and evening have also been forgotten by time on unknown street corners.
Just like I always like daydreaming, I like to conceive my own warm fleeting time, quiet life, touching smiling face, and having your time with me.
Knowing that everything will not be as perfect as my heart, I still expect a beautiful encounter.
Or my idea of screaming laid the foundation for the ending, and my expectation was Conan's dream in the end.
The fog cleared, everything was on, you left with dignity, and I forced a smile.
Later, we were strangers like irrelevant passers-by and never crossed.
Isn't it? Parallel lines are destined to be far opposite, and even if they intersect, they will go further and further and spread far away.
The once prosperous memories, once polished in the fleeting time, will wither and fade away and be lost in the wasteland.
We don't all have to learn to be alone, get used to loneliness, learn not to be sad, and then smile and watch the sun rise.
I'm not dissatisfied, but I still think if.
I hope you care about me, just as I always care about you.
I want your warmth, even if it is false pity,
Can you imagine that I like loneliness, but I am also afraid of loneliness?
This is self-contradictory, but it is still complete and full of unknown emotions.
I said it again and again, but I never learned it. Some people and things, even if lost hundreds of millions of light years, will still be fresh in their memories.
I can't forget, I can't quit my fatal tenderness, and when I say I want to give up, I still feel inexplicably sad in my heart every time I am free.
It's not that time is short and memories are too beautiful, but that those memories will always emerge when you are alone.
I still miss that heavy, inexhaustible moment, that bright smile, that pure white juvenile blue.
Whose surname and story are depicted in the palm print, whose face is reflected in your pupil, and how to describe the oath of the ends of the earth.
No matter how I wander, how I wander, I still can't change my fate and still can't annihilate her beauty.
What is left after the injury? No matter how strong the fireworks are, don't they just bloom at that moment?
I'm not satisfied, but I'm still thinking, what if I'm still looking forward to a little warmth, even a self-righteous memorial?
The shallow sand that can't be caught and the sadness that can't be explained are still scattered and floating into the sky.
Transparent boundaries have long limited our distance, and those who can't shake hands have evolved into anonymous friends.
You won't be sad when I am sad, I will only lick your sadness.
Tears are dripping in the corner of my eyes, hoping to bloom a summer flower cured by the devil.
Be a cocoon of your own, or trap yourself in the loss and look for the light.
The eternal dream still has a beginning and an end, and the sad red rose blooms in coquetry.
Miss, talk here, remember, tomorrow is still passing.
Nobody is right or wrong, and nobody can decide who is right or wrong. When sorrow and joy are still there, the dust dissipates.
For a long time, whose sadness you have interpreted vividly.
Who should be who's disaster, who is pale and who misses?
All this is not inevitable, it is willing, and it is the obsession of moths.
There are always some warm things in Diary of Qing Huan 4, which are unconsciously left behind in my busy and monotonous life, just like suddenly seeing gorgeous red berries in the dry land in winter, which makes people surprise and feel shallow joy. No matter how time goes by, no matter what storms life encounters, I insist on collecting these surprises bit by bit. One day, when I am too old to chew memories, I will be glad that I have kept this little bit of happiness-I will leave with a clear and shallow pearl color.
(1) picking gardenias
The campus in early summer is filled with the smell of gardenia. Take a deep breath, the breath is full of intoxicating fragrance. Are there gardenias on campus? After raising the national flag early, He Yun hurried to the office. Inadvertently, he saw the snow-white gardenia shaking in front of his eyes. There was gardenia under the buttonwood tree in front of the teaching building. Lust for this color, while the students are listening to the leader's lecture on the playground, quickly pick one and put it in your pocket. Returning to the office with a smile, Yun found the bottle, filled it with water, and inserted the flowers into the bottle. Sit down and hold your breath and look at her carefully: the flowers are as white as jade, and the whole office is immersed in fragrance. I always like to write with flowers, such as cherry blossoms, sweet-scented osmanthus and wild chrysanthemums, which have been described before. Although not as good as literati, I occasionally fixed the beauty of that moment on an ordinary piece of paper and lingered all the way through the years.
One evening in June, there was a drizzle in the air, which lingered. The whole campus is shrouded in a thin layer of smoke, and the leaves moistened by drizzle are green, shiny and watery. In wet weather, listen carefully, the birds are sparkling and the water is sparkling. I can't resist the love of flowers, and the clouds across the street invite me to stroll around the campus. We came to the gardenia tree under the buttonwood tree. When our nose touched the petals, we suddenly found a large gardenia in full bloom behind this gardenia tree. The graceful cloud is called "Gardenia Garden", and there is a narrow path in the garden. I have been teaching here for three years, but I don't know this beautiful place on campus? Alas, busy. When we set foot on the path, we were completely wrapped in gardenia and gardenia sachets, and our mouth corners, nose wings and chest were soaked, pickled and intoxicated by the fragrance. I don't know where I am. Suddenly, Yun shouted, "Come and see, this gardenia is particularly beautiful." I motioned for her to keep her voice down, but the leader heard me and said we had nothing to do. Squat down carefully and watch this gardenia carefully. Petals are huge, if they are frozen, they are as beautiful as snow. Flowers covered with dew are more lovely and make people cry. Out of love for this flower, I reached out and picked it. Since then, there has been another flower spirit on my desk. After more than ten days of care, she still withered and died.
Just in the summer vacation, I fell in love with my gardenia garden. When it rains, I hold an umbrella alone to see these beautiful flowers. The noisy campus in the past has become quiet, and this time I have no desire to pick them. I stood by devoutly, afraid to breathe hard, for fear of disturbing its dream. It was quiet in the rain, and there was no one around, only them-elegant and white gardenias, and I was also lonely. I am holding an umbrella, and in the umbrella, it is me; Outside the umbrella, there is a pure white gardenia. I was caught in the rain. It smells good. Looking at it, smelling it and thinking about it, I can't help but be touched. There will be a tacit understanding of life between heaven and earth, between flowers and people! ?
(2) picking mulberries
One day in May, I reviewed hundreds of homework in a row. I was so tired that Yun invited me to take a walk on campus. I heard that the scenery in the teacher's family building is beautiful, so we went to "enjoy the scenery". When we came to the backyard of building 1, we were fascinated by a mulberry tree because it was covered with green fruit strips. Looking at this mulberry tree, I can't help thinking of the mulberry tree in front of my childhood home.
When I was a child, there was a lonely mulberry tree by the pond in front of my house. Short and delicate. Now I think it's because the soil is barren. At that time, I didn't even know it was mulberry, let alone eating mulberry leaves. Occasionally passing by that thin tree, I picked up a small red fruit and put it in my mouth, which is actually sweet. From then on, I became a frequent visitor to that thin tree.
At the beginning of the rain, the sun was shining brightly, and the green leaves on the slender branches of that tree shone brightly. Among the green leaves, there seems to be something the size of a green jujube and a bumpy millet. I looked at it carefully, looked up, and some of them were slightly reddish, which looked particularly comfortable. Greedy, I always try my best to climb that mulberry tree and pick all kinds of fruits.
When I first came to work in a small town, every year in late spring and early summer, at the gate of my daughter's primary school, there were always women selling mulberry leaves and fruits with baskets. From the children's mouth, I learned that the tree by my pond is a mulberry tree, the leaves on the tree are mulberry leaves, and the red and purple fruit on the tree is mulberry.
And cloud about her childhood "ignorance", she couldn't help laughing. She said that when she was a child, she was so greedy that she ate all the edible wild fruits in the fields, fields and mountains. Yes, children were very greedy at that time, because our childhood was full of hunger. Yun said that her favorite food is mulberry, which is the best when it turns black. It seems that the green fruits on this tree today can't satisfy our taste buds.
A few days later, when the mulberry was ripe, Yun invited me to "visit" the mulberry tree. When I came to the tree, sure enough, the fruits on the tree turned deep and shallow red, and some of them turned black. Yun reached out and picked the blackest one for me. This cooked mulberry is really delicious. Put one in your mouth and enjoy it without chewing. After enjoying it, gently lick it with your tongue and the sweet and sour saliva will flow out. It tastes better than the best grapes. Not only does it have no grape skins and grapes, but it melts in your mouth. It's hard to know when you have finished eating, but you are still intoxicated with endless happiness. When I reached out to pick fruit for Yun, she said she had already eaten it. Lovely cloud always likes to take care of me.
Later, we visited the tree every few days, and we had to wait for the green fruit to turn red and black. In the process of waiting, we gradually understand a truth: no matter what we do, there is a process, haste makes waste, so we should hold our breath and take a long-term view.
In my spare time, I read the poem in The Book of Songs, "The spirit is zero, so is life. The star said it was driving and said it was in Sangtian. " As we all know, ancient emperors were very concerned about mulberries.
That's right, this kind of tree in Sang Mu should belong to the south, and mulberry leaves are used to raise silkworms. But I don't know why, the descriptions of mulberries in the Book of Songs in ancient times, such as "Mulberries don't fall, the leaves are luxuriant", "Mulberries fall, but they are yellow" and Li Bai's "Spring Thoughts" and "Swallow grass is as green as silk, and we have mulberry branches here" all belong to the north. It seems that sericulture in ancient times was not the patent of southerners. Located at the junction of north and south, I really want to plant mulberry, raise silkworms and taste mulberry fruits in my spare time.
20xx 10 year 10 October 5.
Qing Huan log 5. Light flows in your mind, dispelling your fears and illuminating your way forward. Look at those footprints, you are on the road to the future. ...
-From Chicken Soup for the Soul
This is my favorite series of books in junior high school, as well as the series of "Light the Mind" and "Smart Backpack". When communicating with the mysterious mind, she said that everything I said was a cure. Like the teachings of the old man, he worked tirelessly to help her sort out her troubles and let her learn to let go of her sadness in her rebellious and stubborn youth.
The personnel audio book and the letter are still lying in the drawer. Only by reading it again can I think of my past and me in the past. They are optimistic, open-minded and enjoy themselves. Many short paragraphs were written at that time. In the pamphlet, both the author and the reader are myself. No pity, no loneliness and melancholy, simple and stupid. ...
However, five years later, we never contacted each other again. Our letters are finally like broken kites, floating in the unknown sky. I don't answer, and she doesn't answer ... In the melodious and brisk time, we are all children adopted by youth. I forget who said a rude word: "life is easy, life is easy, and it is easy." Life is not easy. "
She said she was tired of her family, her brothers were unfriendly, her parents were at odds, and the house smelled of cigarettes all day. Thirteen years old, full of sadness.
At that time, I thought that warmth could cure a person's sadness. If I were today, I wouldn't talk as much as I did when I was thirteen. Gentleness can only smooth a temporary frown. If you don't face it, wrinkles will always appear again and again, so you can only iron it by ironing, and it will eventually be riddled with holes. Even if I can draw, I can't describe you as beautiful as a distant mountain. ...
You should be like me, inexplicably like a single sentence in a paragraph, even if it is only a monosyllable, that feeling can be particularly strong. For example, when I read A Dream of Red Mansions, I like the word "semi-old" very much, and when I read Inuyasha, I like the word "fetter" very much, but you asked me to explain why I like it and what my intention is. I can't express myself either. The things you like are well hidden, and your own stories are whispered. Our story is just a shallow singing, not a eulogy. ...
After listening to the teacher in charge in class today, I suddenly felt suddenly enlightened. People often have goals but don't do them down to earth. A calm and steady person seems to have missed his goal. One is aimless, the other is lazy and fond of dreaming. In fact, they are all the same kind of people in the end. Goal, goal, persistence, persistence. continue ...
Ps: ——————— Running notes. May the sky be high and the clouds be light, and people and things be clear. Our life is always lucky. ...
"Diary of Qing Huan" 6 Emotions are always poems.
Despite thousands of customs, I still don't like you.
My heart is full of melancholy. Is melancholy an umbrella? Covered with light rain, a small piece of heaven and earth, there is a little rhyme for me to walk alone. Invite the moon to travel together, and the moon is hidden. Please enjoy the fun of the wind. The wind said, go, go. The night tree smiled without a word, broke a thin bone, and murmured: Worry comes to drink two thousand stones, cold ash warms spring.
Tea should be unique and wine should be * * *.
Where can we find someone to drink on this red and green night? This nice room has been abandoned and belongs to me alone.
Drinking is a popular culture. In the alley at the end of the street, where there are teahouses and food stores, there must be elegant wine fragrance. Liquor is burning, sake is free and easy, and yellow wine is gentle. And this summer, a glass of beer, cool and clear, is perfect for people like me who can't drink well.
I want some jasmine tea.
I want to be empty.
I want wild vines in the mountains as food.
With a graceful photo, two points of Su Shi's boldness, three points of Zhuang Zhou's calmness and four points of helplessness, the wine tastes very mellow.
The poverty at the entrance suddenly cracked, awakening every sleeping consciousness. The throat is stiff and burns to the internal organs. That sad tongue feeling, like the sharpness of a tear, stung the chest violently and had a heavy pleasure.
Is this wine? What a tragedy!
The best state of drinking should be noisy, busy, tangled and guessing. Just for the excitement of wine, it should be the fun of wine.
The bleakest state is that a person sits at the table, keeps company with the shadow, talks eloquently, or is at a loss or distracted, waiting or not, and gradually enters the edge of the Tang and Song Dynasties. Sip a drop and say, "What's life like singing to wine?" , three cups and two lamps, watching the immortal "wash away the eternal sorrow and linger for a hundred pots of drinks". I should drink light wine that comes late and comes in a hurry, temporarily get rid of the chaos in the world, have an illusory heart, have an idea of leaving the dust, and forget the trivial troubles of life. Gulp a cup full of Grain Rain liquid in your hand, and hold an empty cup in your hand. I can still feel the cold in my hands, and I can also feel the cold in my heart. Drinking wind lightly and dew heavily makes it difficult to fall asleep after drinking the night. Only this kind of wine is true happiness, and I feel that nothing in the world can compare with it.
Wine is emotional.
Wine is poetry.
Wine is a soft language of Wu Nong, and wine is aged by Songhua. The more drunk the wine, the more confused it is, and the more sober it is.
Boring toasts, boring prying. There is a feeling of drinking alone, which is cold and beautiful.
My heart is getting heavier and heavier.
The night gets deeper and deeper.
This wine is getting weaker and weaker.
Suddenly, as in the fog, the chaos was reversed.
Laughing at fireflies at night: I can also handle everything indifferently. I should understand the clarity of this wine.