Misty Rain and Peach Blossom and Jiangnan Prose

If you want to say peach blossom, you think of the romantic encounter in Cuihu, and your heart is pounding when you think of his gripping poems. You had me at hello. Make-up and delicate face, shy and timid, what a beautiful and wonderful painting. The girl under the peach blossom is a clever stroke of the poet, intoxicated with his heart. His heart was instantly softened into a blank sheet of paper, splashed with ink by the fragrance of flowers, and he wrote all his thoughts through the east wind. ...

Flowers bloom for a year, and lovesickness for a year. If God can really be beautiful as an adult, will there still be a famous saying in this world: When people don't know where to go, peach blossoms still smile at the spring breeze? If it happens, love will have no regrets.

Many years ago, in February in the south of the Yangtze River, I went to look for the love that haunted the world. In February in the south of the Yangtze River, I followed in the footsteps of the poet, waiting for the peach blossoms to bloom.

A friend once lamented that in such a spring season, peach blossoms should be flooded. I am a layman, and vulgarity is inevitable. At this moment, I don't want to deliberately make words for peach blossoms. When the peach blossoms are in chaos, talk about my Jiangnan. Although the peach blossom is beautiful, it will eventually wither. Dai jade buries flowers, but peach blossoms? So there was a later poem: "Peach blossoms wither in spring, too soon, cold rain comes late, wind comes late, and tears are fat." When will it be heavy? " Natural people hate water when they grow up! "The peach blossoms described by predecessors are so beautiful that they are mixed with too much sadness. If I write again, I will gild the lily.

In Jiangnan, the fragrance of peach blossoms is endless. In the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, I saw your brilliant little smile. Shili Su Causeway, smoke willow painting bridge. In my dream, an awning boat gently carried me across the bridge, and two oars brushed away the meeting and missing in Jiangnan. I lost the romance of the Tang Dynasty in the peerless beauty, and crushed it into economic ink.

In pavilions, pick a flower. What is this? I don't care, apricot flowers or pear flowers. Just put the flowers gently on your chest, write down the proverbs on a piece of blue paper and read them out day and night.

I have been addicted to my life's emotions in ink painting, those that wash away my memory, those that are poetic and touching.

Slightly shallow, the peach blossom dances romantically and floats with the wind, arousing beautiful reverie in the sky. The willows blow with the wind, but their faces are not cold. Apricot blossoms and misty rain, only clothes are wet.

Who will wait for me in the drizzle with an oil-paper umbrella at this time? Will she step on that gentle and graceful poem and frown and look back at me?

Floating in the south of the Yangtze River with blue bricks and tiles, it has a faint fragrance, very light and very light. Trivial mood, suddenly as ethereal as the wind, as blurred as a dream.

Time flies, I vaguely remember once saying that your words are the Jiangnan that I am haunted by. And my Jiangnan complex, like your preference for words, is expressed incisively and vividly in a thin stroke, as graceful and intoxicating as a poem.

At that time, when I read your words, I was like an independent woman who was left behind, rocking a leaf in a canoe and sailing back to the river in the lotus wind of ten miles. Just listen, the phoenix piano croaked, the song flew with the oars, and the smoke was drunk with the moon.

In order to meet you in Jiangnan, I ran around. Have you ever seen a man with a broken bridge head and white clothes over snow, with gentle and lonely eyes?

Looking back on a thousand miles of smoke, who will go alone? In the gentle romance, I stole a few strands of tenderness and hid it in my words, just for your affection.

In the misty rain, I passed by Jiangnan, and I have been to the other side you mentioned. In the past, I tried my best to read your words deeply, just as I asked for that inner purity and peace in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.

I have seen your little smile in the purple misty rain, and your face is as soft as Jiangnan, where I have been.

At the moment, the peach blossoms are flourishing and the east wind is free and unfettered. ...

Chunmin

Music flows in my ears, and sadness follows. ...

In early spring, the cold air is daunting. Rain after rain, talk, like a dissatisfied housewife who has not been free for many years, now she has found someone to talk to.

The new year passed quickly. I never look forward to the New Year. The new year is a hurdle for me. Every new year, there will be one more knot in my heart.

The old house is full of trees, so I can't find a complete place to go back and forth. Only my mother's portrait hangs in it, and I am willing to keep it for one year, two years, and never stop. ...

His wife doesn't like going home for the New Year. He would rather stay in someone else's city than touch the dusty smell of the old house. Despite her loving brother and sister-in-law, and despite the harmonious neighborhood, she refused to go back. Because there is always no complete home. number; amount; how many; how much

The newly bought house years ago has been delayed in decoration. As a man, I am deeply ashamed of my wife and children. Wandering from place to place year after year, it only blooms and does not bear fruit.

It is difficult for my son to go to the county seat to study. From the initial teacher's eyesore to the middle and upper reaches, my son has paid a lot. My son's grades are average since he was a child, so it is undoubtedly a blow to put him in the top class. Whether you can get a foothold in the top class is not just a matter of hard work or not. My wife and I have racked our brains for the education of our children, and how many white hairs have been added to our temples.

I suddenly remembered the article "Man to Middle Age" written the year before last, and I deeply appreciated it. When people reach middle age, they are deeply involved in the world; Clear eyes began to drift and muddy gradually. Look at the world gradually indifferent, no longer stubborn, and truly realize that "people will rest in middle age" and "love is silent to the depths." I really want to have a quiet place to meet one or two intimate friends. Then quietly drink tea and read articles, seek quiet and far-reaching space in the restless world, laugh at gossip, and forgive others' dissatisfaction or ignorance with a tolerant attitude. It seems that this is not something I can accomplish in middle age. If I have to achieve it, it will take another 20 years, after I am 60 years old.

I am no longer an ignorant teenager in the past, and I will not worry about assigning new words. The beginning of a year means how to worry about my livelihood. Words are harsh to me at the moment, so I can only secretly like those things that cannot be satisfied.

The experience of selling vegetables yesterday was vivid, and only thin clothes were left after careful licking.

Every morning at one or two o'clock, I have to open my sleepy eyes, get up and go out to the wholesale market to sell vegetables, and then come back to the market to sell.

At first, I didn't lose money for a day. I had to sneak in money. My wife tirelessly follows me in and out every day, and I can't bear to see her disappointed eyes.

The night of the twelfth lunar month is as dark as ink. I, on the other hand, seem to be burning a lamp in my heart, which is always on. Bitter, tired and happy. Business is also a science, not everyone can.

Visiting the clothing supermarket on New Year's Eve, my son refused to try on clothes. I was dragged by a coat and couldn't bear to leave. Looking at the high price, I finally chose to give up. A piece of clothing is equivalent to a month of getting up early and getting greedy for the dark, and no one can be indifferent.

After I left, you were still selling vegetables there, earning more and earning less can at least make a living.

Years later, my wife was worried when she left. I reluctantly agree that at the age of forty, a person selling radish and cabbage in the street seems to have been slapped several times, which is very miserable. If possible, I'd rather sweep the streets than bicker with those old ladies.

Suddenly, I miss what a friend told me a few years ago: Don't wander around outside, stay in a factory and learn a skill. Technology is no match for strength. The older you get, the more valuable you are. When you are old, your strength is gone and you will only be rejected. You will know in a few years. ...

I wonder what my friends say. In reality, several people are not only interested in immediate interests, but also have their own retreat. At this moment, I just hope that my son can work hard and not follow in my footsteps. This is a blessing in disguise.

In my hometown in the countryside, the sound of mahjong is endless, and the taste of the year is strong. Few people talk about such a shallow or profound topic as "a year's plan lies in spring", and no one even notices that a willow tree on the roadside has turned green and swayed in the wind and rain.

Daiyu is probably the only one who doesn't like flowers! Looking at the swaying spring flowers in front of her eyes, she couldn't help thinking of the colorful desolation in autumn in England. Therefore, I often comfort myself against my will. Sleepy, warm and sad, just like winter, will eventually leave. Not far away, early spring and February are coming towards me with a twisted waist. Zhu Ziqing was born in an era when black and white are reversed, and there is infinite spring in his heart, not to mention our generation.

He is still looking forward to, looking forward to, the east wind is coming, and the pace of spring is coming soon. I didn't expect it, but spring came. Cold can't stop the progress of spring, nor can it stop the flowers from blooming everywhere.

Early spring reminds me of the darkness before dawn. People like to use the darkness before dawn to describe all kinds of gloom and decadence that are about to pass. It seems that before long, a red sun will tear the black wings and generate will emerge. Early spring is like this. If there is no rain, it is not a complete early spring, let alone a chilly spring.

It is precisely because of the shortness of early spring that more beautiful memories will be left and people will feel that time flies. As soon as I bowed my head, the wind and water slowed down the rain. When I looked up, the future was bright. I hope life will remain the same. ...