Iron joke

Simple fine print, temporary love only sends prose.

Simple notes and fine print, temporary parking is just for wandering.

The surging tide gradually tends to wander in the flowing water. I borrowed a plain piece of paper to fold the boat, temporarily parked my thoughts in this wandering, watching the fluttering and vigorous fine print and feeling quiet. Moved by a little smile in the streamer, suddenly my age has been crushed in the hustle and bustle of Zaixi, and the excessive silence has properly modified all these distractions. The shuttle was originally intended to break the whole. In fact, the imperfect perfection has become the most perfect, and this time, many emotions are indescribable. It seems that only by carefully carving memories in the ebb and flow of the night can we slowly heal.

It's time to stop the nameless wandering and let the freedom of the soul soar in this ferry. Maybe you can't get that kind of pleasure, maybe you can't get where you want to belong, at least this time you can stop. In this way, the eyes are as smart as water, and the thoughts are as elegant as the breeze. Standing on this ferry, no matter what the surrounding sounds are, you will feel at ease and quiet in the process of slowly sinking with a smile. I fell in love with such a moment, a long time ago, my crazy heart could not be bound, and I accidentally entered this ferry. During this time, I was restless, tangled, romantic, arrogant and eager to try ... as turbulent as duckweed. People who refuse to stop are like deer bumping into each other, and finally get rid of vulgarity and anger, wake up slowly in a deep sleep, bind a lot of feelings, and look at the end of the world tenderly until they wander.

I told memory that it was your sharp carving that made my heart ache and caused the lacrimal gland.

I told jathyapple that it was your right state that made the intestines dizzy and tangled.

I said to the music, it's your soft frequency that keeps that screaming corner moving.

I told you, silence is your magnetic call, let quiet people abandon everything and have you.

I told the heritage that your affectionate touch made the sand take away the purest water in the world.

I told Su Jian that it is not because of your beauty that the feelings that have been sailing are anchored in your simple body.

I told my handwriting that it was not my intention to breed your existence. So many struggles were put on you. The deeper my feelings, the less I wanted to write about you like this.

……

Unreasonable provocation, surging charm at midnight, sad, perhaps this word is suppressing nerves and making hair white. Even if it is an excuse, tell me firmly that I am looking for the deepest release, tell me that I am catering to the final transformation, and tell me that I understand the sacred saying: the old will not go, and the new will not come. Even if it is soothing, I can't write words to sing the endless night and draw a blueprint for development. I can only stop in this simple small print and outline a little inside story. In retrospect, I smiled and everything was in vain.

Filter out, there are words quietly, there is no realm of "two ears don't smell things outside the window, just read the book of sages", but you are alone in still water. Falling in love with all this is spotless, and the flaws become insignificant. Some people with strange feelings may feel that they look down on things and seem to come naturally. Looking at the bright windows and the static platform, looking at the shutters blown by the wind and feeling the moment when the wind glides, I know that I am immersed in this scene again, filtering out all the sound sources, only feeling the freedom of the wind, pursuing the wind marks left in the ideological trend, and jumping words flash across the paper, roll up and forget.

Feelings, when it comes to how complicated the word is and how many stories are mixed, we dig everything out wholeheartedly to find feelings, but we are finally tired of feelings and don't love the anxiety of the world of mortals. We can't let go, wandering in the text, tracing back those memories that are hard to give up, but we can't forget them, but we really forget them. So I said that it was not the memory that stung me, but when the rhythm of deja vu sounded again, our hearts could not squeeze out those real past, inexplicable rhythm and inexplicable tears. At this moment, tears are not tears, but indelible residue.

Stop and dare not go forward, even if I take another step and look back at that thousand miles. My gentle and graceful landscape, rich countryside, live in paper, and my endless feelings are also anchored in this boundless text. The fragrance can't cover it, and neither can this overflowing mind. In the world of mortals, I picked up this page, and my drifting feelings were sent into feelings full of simple notes.

Maybe already in love, hopelessly in love. Then dock it, extract the rhythm or the touch of the heart from each melody, and temporarily park this unrequited love. ...

Or, just alive.

Maybe it took too long to start, and I got lost in the journey.

As usual, I woke up early, and there was still dead silence outside the window, without noise and noise. I often wonder what it would be like to light up this lonely day with a person's life. Perhaps it is the end of prosperity, and I can't find the original appearance anymore; Probably gone, can't go back to the starting point. ...

I'm not familiar with the details of this city: busy scenes and endless crowds, and I'm beginning to feel a little confused. I forgot my original dream and tried to find my place in this city, but I was disappointed to find that there was no world I wanted. I can't find my direction, I can't find my dream, and I almost lost myself.

So, I began to look for the direction, wandering in the complex intersection. I tried to hold my head high so that I could see where I was going. However, the noise of the city disturbed my thoughts, and the congestion of the city prevented me from finding my way.

So, I started looking, walking in the bustling crowd, I tried to see farther and try to pick up my original dream. However, what about my original dream? Is it still there? The hurried pace disturbed my direction, and the crowded crowd made me at a loss.

Perhaps my natural indomitable character gave me the courage to find myself, so I embarked on the road of re-finding. This time, I am ready to deal with unexpected accidents. I walked more and more slowly, walking on the road of the city, I began to observe everything around me, afraid of missing, afraid of missing ... just walking, ... no noise, no. No hurry, no tension. Because I can only hear myself, I can hear my heart.

However, the reality is so cruel, so real and so unreasonable, and it still keeps me out. This time, I was still disappointed and suddenly found out. I can't find my way back. I have gone through hardships, and I have seen the hardships of survival and the cruelty of competition. I can't go back, I can't find my way back, and finally I lost my way in search of my dream. Alas, sad and ridiculous. But this! Is life!

I vaguely remember the days in the countryside more than ten years ago. At that time, in order to get my father's reward, I studied hard and always looked forward to the day when my father came back from work. At that time, it was not complicated, difficult or confused to work hard for gifts. Just work hard. The more you grow up, the more lonely you get. When I grew up, I gradually lost myself.

I once thought about what I should do and prepare when I come to this strange city. Later, I found that the clock was running, we were changing, and the ideal state of life would dissipate with time, leaving no trace. I know I'm unhappy, but I can't find the lifestyle I want. I don't know what I will be like in the future. ...

I sometimes long for life. A person carrying a guitar, through the crowd, away from the city. Come to a place where there is no crowd, playing guitar and singing. When you are tired, wave a brush, write your youth and express yourself in the most primitive way. The brush head is soft and not as strong as other pens, but I like this feeling, gentle and restrained, not as sharp as a pen, not as smooth as a ball, not as casual as a pencil. Things written with a brush, like our life, have no waves, but also take a sharp turn. Once written, it cannot be changed. Life can't be repeated.

As Haizi said, "Facing the sea, spring blossoms", I wandered in this beautiful artistic conception.

In this way, doing what you love, playing your favorite songs and writing your favorite words, maybe you will be really happy. But life really does not need an audience. I don't know if I need an audience in my life ...

Our youth is a gust of wind, which comes so fast and goes so fast. This gust of wind contains our most beautiful memories. Even if there are clouds, we can still pass through them, so that we can see the perfection after the flowers bloom and fall. We are all children of dreams, only dreams and only beliefs. I can't lose it, and you can't steal it.

Perhaps, on the other side of the world, there is a world that belongs to me. You don't know, you don't understand, what kind of life it is, I don't want to know, I don't want to understand. However, if I can, I hope it is a pure sunshine flower, floating and turning.

I heard the sound of water in my dream.

Many memories fade in the familiar life, only the sound of running water can't be brushed away and seep into our bodies.

That night, the wet moon just came out of the water. Who was crying?

In your dream, the river that comes from far away illuminates your whole body. When the years are getting late, dead branches will be born in your heart. Comb the moon's long and bright hair every night, how can you hang a few broken stars?

Do you look back in a hurry, those underwater voices have already reached a gentle dream, and many destined sentimentality and joy have turned into a tear, which still overflows the riverbed of the years and finally soaks the shore willow of your soul?

I know that you can't turn your back on the original river all your life.

You said that memories entered the banks of the sunset ahead of time, and the water plants in the past were slowly submerged by the river.

In fact, people don't need to get too many sweet and sour feelings, happy or sad dreams in their lives, but learn to cross the river of time, let the waves of love and gratitude overflow and listen to the sound of water.

Perhaps it is the impulse of a drop of water that expresses the eternal desire in a rich and beautiful way. But there is always a thirsty wind that peels away the youth we used to be proud of. In a certain ending, our sad hearts are ringing, and in the final ending, we always refuse to cry.

When you are alive, don't think that flowing is because of the river, and don't think that sighing is about the sound of water; When can the withered heart spring flow? When will silent thoughts be full of aura?

The eternal sound of running water goes deep into our hearts and brings us endless pain and heartbreak.

You also said that you wanted to forget many important things in your daily life. For example, the grievances of love and the bitterness of life.

But whenever people talk about the past from us, can you give up the familiar life and turn the strange past into today's lyric?

Above the human body, take water as the wing of flight, take water as the source of soul, live for water and die for water.

So far, who has heard the sound of water in the dream?

Who, in the season of missing, is willing to believe in the sacred waiting and the eternal dusk with the will to start?

Even waiting for the light and shadow in the early morning, until I see the afterglow of dusk, turning my wound into a river, I don't know where to take my feelings. ...

Cut for a while and meet you

The alleys of the years have been full of fireworks. There is no end to the other shore. -inscription

It is my greatest comfort that you cut a period of time and meet me at the best age.

You let me know what a touching word sunshine is.

Don't expect to be strong together, or even seek faint dependence.

But we met as soon as we met, but we never met when we met.

Not only is the cold wind bleak at night, but the tea is shallow? Can I warm up your Leng Cha? A cup of tea, a cup of reading, from the past to the present, read only until the remaining half is warm.

Instead of letting memories pretend to be prosperous and sad, it is better to turn around and become the past. Sometimes, when you put it down, everything is empty.

Perhaps, everyone has several unknown dark wounds in their hearts, waiting for time to recover.

I'm not me. When you turn around and think of me, I am not me anymore.

You're not you. My mind is full of thoughts and thoughts, and I won't have you anymore.

In my old age, I still want to warm my memories with you. And he, already each Ann tianya.

You are always different from him.

I know, I said, you know.

Maybe I've been half awake. Now, the tea is cold, so I should wake up.

He is not the one who passed me by among thousands of people and is willing to look back for me; Not the one who is willing to hold hands with me and look at the stars; Not the one who is willing to give up everything just to hold my hand and accompany me for a lifetime.

Wake up, sink, rainy night, half cold.

My humble pen writes for you for the last time:

The breeze is moist and the tea smoke is long;

Han Xiao is boundless, smiling for you;

Moon bend, the fifteenth court;

Smoke curled up and stared at the mountains;

Gradually drifting away, watching the fire across the bank;

The wind is cloudy, prosperous and sad;

If you miss it, protect him;

Destined to be the past;

I have given up for three years, but my memory of the past has faded. Please forgive me.

The breeze is blowing, the tea rhyme is continuous, and the temperature is fine;

The vast land, bend over and look back, just laughing for you;

Smoke billows, dishes remain the same, and mountains are far away;

Desalinate yesterday, forget today, and look at it relatively;

The wind is gentle, the clouds are fluttering, so sad today;

If you miss it, you will always remember and protect him;

Perhaps it is destiny takes a hand, destiny has no chance, destiny is doomed;

Is it possible to give up three years, with the memories of the past, and gradually forget, heartless as me, please forgive me.

Selected works by Xiao Ran.

Spring is first love.

Drizzle, soft spring breeze, warm spring breeze, faint floral fragrance and deep affection. When winter comes, I can't help being intoxicated in this spring. Have a dream about spring. There are flowers, rain, spring breeze and soft lake in the dream.

It is cold in winter, and the inhaled air is so cold that it has a pungent chill. Winter is silent, whether it is day or night, the outside world is silent, and children can't be heard laughing or running happily. In this cold season, there is nothing but the whistling north wind and the noise when trees shake. All you can see is one or two women picking vegetables occasionally, with headscarves on their heads, picking vegetables faster in the wind in order to get back to the warm room. Other lovely little things in the field have entered the hibernation period, and they can't hear the natural symphony. Without children's laughter and natural symphonies, winter in the south seems so lonely and boring. The water is freezing in winter, and the last thing I want to do in winter is to wash clothes by the river, because the water is very cold. When you reach down, as soon as your fingertips touch the water, you will feel a chill spread all over your body. Every time I wash clothes, my hands are red and swollen and numb with cold.

However, I like winter nights very much, because only this time is a happy moment. After dinner, the whole family gathered by the fire to keep warm. My father shared his harvest of the past year with us, telling humorous jokes, and my mother became active from her usual reticence. We children talk about all kinds of interesting things we see. All this beauty is recorded in the orange light. After chatting after dinner, we went back to our beds to sleep. Lying in bed, my sister suddenly said, this winter is really terrible. I still like spring. In spring, there is warm sunshine, which makes my face comfortable and my heart warm. "Well, I think so, too," I replied. In fact, I added in my heart that I also like the birds and flowers in spring and the warm lake. I didn't say it because I was afraid of being called melodramatic. But I really like it.

In the drizzle, the fresh and warm spring breeze brushed the smiling face with the smell of earth, which made people intoxicated by the sweet spring breeze. This beautiful season belongs to the sweet and gentle happiness like first love, falling in love with the drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River and the gentle acacia lake; I fell in love with sunflowers with bright spring breeze. Fall in love with all the beauty and indulge in all the charming spring scenery.

The spring rain in Jiangnan is as fine as a feather. It is not as cold as winter rain, nor as sudden as summer rain. She is like a Jiangnan woman, and she has the gentleness and delicacy of a Jiangnan woman. Therefore, the spring rain will not feel pain when it hits people, but it will have an itchy and crisp feeling, which makes people feel very comfortable. She is a quiet Jiangnan woman. She never appears exaggerated and impetuous. She just quietly and silently moistens all the life coming from winter. She has the gentleness of a mother, caressing the hibernating children as tenderly as a loving mother, whispering softly in their ears, awakening their hearts that have been sleeping for a winter. The rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the fine rain and the misty rain moisten everything in the world with its warmth. Feelings are deep drizzle, and how much tenderness turns into this gentle drizzle sprinkled on the hearts of every passerby and landed in their palms.

The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River turned the lake in the south of the Yangtze River into a dream. Lake Xiang Si in misty rain is like a fairyland on earth, and you can't see her whole picture clearly under the hazy rain curtain. The fog around is constantly rising, giving people a dreamlike wonderland. But I think she is more like a shy Jiangnan woman, and misty rain covers her face like a veil. The green lake is as smooth as a girl's skin, and it is soft and crisp through the fingertips. It's like a girl's flowing long hair brushing her fingertips. Never dare to speak out in front of this gentle girl, for fear of showing her rudeness and disturbing her dreams. I often stand on the bridge and stare at her, appreciate her femininity and try to engrave all her beauty in my heart.

She is so gentle and beautiful. I often stare at her, and my mouth will rise unconsciously. Give a big smile. I often wonder whether there are lovesick people in her dreams, whether her dreams are full of laughter and laughter, and whether there is a beautiful agreement with spring in her dreams. Oh, all this is unknown. What a gentle and kind person this gentle Xiang Si Lake has nurtured. What this Xiang Si Lake hides is how many people yearn for beauty. It's foggy and raining, but it feels stronger. I don't know whether I fell in love with your gentleness or your obscurity, but I have been intoxicated with your gentleness.

This warm spring breeze, this warm sunshine, this bright sunflower and a bright smile constitute such a beautiful picture. You see, she is using her whole life to show all her beauty to the world. She was so desperate. You see, although she looks so petite at this time, she still looks up and spends her whole life bathing in the beauty of warm spring and spring breeze. You see, petite smiling face, sunny smiling face, is so stubborn. In this beautiful season, many people are fascinated by her because of her stubbornness. The tourists who came for her may be infected by her, and everyone's face is full of bright smiles. Floating in this sunflower garden is joyful laughter. Maybe each of us is a passer-by in her life, but even so, she still does not spare her beauty and blooms in this spring.

I found a bee quietly attached to it in this warm sunshine in a small stamen. Another year of sunflower blooming, another busy year. The bee is working hard, and the sunflower is also selflessly contributing its nectar. Seeing this scene, I suddenly remembered my parents who were busy at home. At this time, it is also the day of spring ploughing. Aren't they just trying to sow the hope of the next family in those acres for the sake of food and clothing for the whole family? Soil is the root and hope of farmers. As long as there is dirt, they can support their families with their own hands. Soil is the wealth of farmers. I remember that my parents always worked in the fields before dawn, pulling weeds and picking fertilizer and putting them in the fields. Mom said it can keep the soil fertile and make crops grow better. Because soil, like people, also needs confinement to nourish after childbirth. Otherwise, the fertile land will eventually become barren. In spring, my father and mother sow hope in the soil. They are repeating the same work seriously. They are not bored, but with a smile on their faces and hope in their hearts. The earth is their eternal lover, and they are always serious and cautious about their lover.

It is another spring, and many good hopes are sown in this season like first love.

A collection of poems written by the author for you.

In October, I am harvesting.

Autumn water, reflecting the blue sky and rinsing the white clouds, flows smoothly, crosses the bridge, bypasses the village and rushes to the front happily. Qingyi River in front of us is the mother river in southern Anhui, which flows from south to north and gathers with the Yangtze River day and night. On both sides of Qingyi River, buildings are criss-crossed, water networks are intertwined, rice fields are golden in the autumn sun, and the air is filled with intoxicating rice fragrance. This is my haunted hometown.

During the seven-day National Day holiday, I bid farewell to the hustle and bustle of the city and returned to the Jiangnan water town and the Qingyi River. At this time, my hometown is like a colorful oil painting, less youthful and feminine, more plump and charming. Felt-like rice fields are glittering, and mature rice is waiting for people to harvest.

I want to find a clear path in my memory to find the familiar Taoxiang. The smell of earth and the freshness of rice surround me. I long for this smell, take a deep breath and inhale the rich smell of autumn harvest into my nostrils and soul. At that moment, my tangled troubles faded. Bending down, I picked up an ear of rice and carefully studied the heavy achievements of the villagers for a hard year. I saw the sunshine, I saw the sweat, and I saw the cultivation of farmers with their backs to the loess. My original pure eyes overflow with bitter tears. The ancient poem I read as a child: "Who knows that every grain is hard" has been clearly interpreted in the autumn wilderness. In an instant, I was relieved and breathed out my confusion and depression for a long time. I feel that life is the Qingyi River in front of me. Despite many twists and turns, it will eventually generously nourish the creatures on both sides of the strait.

When I came back this autumn, I was deeply moved by the local accent and homesickness. The new look of my hometown touched a nerve and a feeling of joy came to my mind. Villagers not only do not pay agricultural taxes, but also rely on state subsidies to grow grain. In the past two years, my hometown has started the construction of new countryside. In those years, rows of two-story villas magically grew out of the uneven and different-looking former residences. Only the curved stone arch bridge at the head of the village was still watching, flowing like water at its feet. ...

At first, the autumn wind messed up Qingyijiang's thoughts, and it also reminded me of my attachment to my childhood. At that time, we had to walk on the river bank with our school bags on our backs. Looking around, the rugged rice fields are like green silks and satins, and we sing: "A big river, with broad waves and fragrant flowers on both sides, my family lives on the shore. I am used to listening to the ferryman's songs and seeing the white on the boat. "

This year, my hometown engaged in land circulation, set up an agricultural ecological demonstration park, and undertook the breeding project of high-quality and high-yield hybrid rice in Yuan Longping. After a bumper harvest, farmers participated in cooperative medical insurance and endowment insurance, and their lives were no worse than those of city dwellers.

In October, the water town is full of autumn rhyme. Chrysanthemums rub against children's smiling faces, and rich crops are waiting for a warm home. Green mountains and green waters snuggle up to each other and play an eternal farewell song. Autumn in the new countryside is like a song, a poem and a painting. Combine harvesters galloped merrily in the rice fields, spitting out golden welcome words. A burst of fragrant rice slipped into my nostrils and slid along the taste to the U disk in my heart, which would precipitate my unforgettable and permanent attachment to my hometown.

path ...

Like Dai Dai, this country road extends to the depths of Cangshan Mountain, where crops are flourishing and vegetables and fruits are dazzling. Zhao Hui's evening smoke, clouds rolling and clouds relaxing, summer rain dancing and elms and willows embracing each other are really beautiful!

There is also an abandoned primary school campus by the roadside, which is the place where I stop and linger the most. Maybe I have been a teacher, and I still have mixed feelings about the school.

Now this abandoned campus has fallen into disrepair. The doors and windows are locked, the glass is broken, the elm wall on the roadside is flying, weeds and insects are scattered among the flowers, and the grass on the playground is terrible ... Two tall weeping willows on the playground silently tell endless vicissitudes!

On the road near the campus, I read her vicissitudes over and over again, her sadness, her loneliness and her helplessness, feeling the desolation of people leaving the building, the inevitability of life and death, and the endless vitality of Wan Muchun beside the sunken ship and in front of the sick tree.

However, I still feel the warmth, innocence and beauty of the campus more. I'm like opening an old yellowed photo album, savoring, stroking and stroking. I touched the layers of innocent and lively footprints deeply imprinted on the campus over and over again, and I listened to a string of cheerful laughter hanging on the willow beside the playground. The lush grass on campus and the green mountains outside the campus always remind me of the campus eulogy "Farewell to the Pavilion": "Outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road, the green grass is sky-high ..." There is also the ballad "Childhood": "No one knows why the sun always sets on the other side of the mountain, and no one can tell me whether there are immortals living in the mountain. ...

It is this path leading to the campus that left the footprints of my wife, son and brother.

Before and after our marriage, my wife used to be a math and art teacher here. At that time, she was in the prime of life, always wearing a slim student blue Lenin dress, walking, sitting, lying down, and never leaving her hands. She is quiet, silent, pure, vulgar, bookish and out of touch.

Bohr, we sent him here to study when he was five years old. At that time, he was a loner at school, and we never picked him up, even though it was two miles from home to school. What a spoiled child like today! He was chased and cried by the big goose on the roadside; He once stole small money from his family and went to the top of Xishan Mountain to buy canned food and children to eat. He once picked up a small iron block and put it on the path on the windowsill at home, as if he had treasured a few treasures; He once sweated on his way to school in autumn. ) hurry home. I remember when he made a little mistake and we criticized him, he always bowed his head deeply. The chubby little girl blushed like an apple, and her nose was soaked with sweat. What a good love! He has never contradicted us since he was a child, and his character makes us feel at ease and gratified forever! Now that he is married in Dalian, can he still remember these wonderful childhood memories?

I just got back from the army that year. I'm definitely a handsome guy. She has fine features and is full of youthful vitality. He used to be a substitute teacher in this primary school, but he didn't have the opportunity to engage in education. Later, I went to a government department and finally became a carpenter. In fact, what people do is not important, and the result is not important. As long as they have experience and process, life will be extremely beautiful. Even if the experience and process are bitter, it is also a fragrant tea with endless aftertaste in life, pure and mellow brewing! Love life: love mid-spring and winter; Love sunshine, but also love bitter wind and rain; Love gorgeous chardonnay and hazy clouds! What you have is infinitely beautiful!

Path, country path, path leading to campus, path leading to Cangshan, path leading to life. Now I hug you every day, because you are no longer alone with me!