Prose: Light and Shadow in Spring

"I have returned to my hometown in March, and the sound of horses stepping on the grass urges me to return to my hometown in spring ..." The melody coming from a distance in the drizzling dusk seems a little vivid and sad in the dark night.

Don't be discouraged by pain. You know what I want to say now. 1 month 1 day it's still early for cats to catch mice ... whose sadness is illuminated by the moonlight of childhood, the road is already vast.

Moonless night, wandering in a low voice, or illness or Xu's footsteps creaking in the dark night, just like when you were a child, you didn't say a word anywhere.

In the city at night, at nine o'clock in the evening, the silent moon hangs high in the horizon. At night, not deep. The traffic on the street and the dim lights make this spring particularly lonely. In the hustle and bustle of the day, the lights on the top of the mountain twinkled with the stars, and it was warm and cold at first, and the bird nestled in its mother's arms.

two

Facing the shadow of life, I stared at the earth calmly. I walked alone through the Aegean Sea, Potala, cities and wilderness. At this time, it is night, and the music in the square is full of interest. You walk through street after street, looking for the light in the dark night, and the bright moon shines on Kyushu. There are a few stars on the horizon, and your hometown is not far away. You have lost the direction of your home.

Now, you'd better cheat your life, pretend to be innocent and still snuggle up to your parents happily. Who touches my head gently, like touching a sleepy dog and kitten in the middle of the night, a cabin in the dark, rippling with laughter after a day's work, and you are dancing and sleeping by the warm fire.

I admit that I am not the darling of life. I am ugly, clumsy and not free and easy. You can walk the Jianghu without making any mistakes. I can't do it. I really can't do it. I can't calm myself down and stand firm in the wind and rain like a rock.

I am a mess. I'm worried. I am generally at a loss, embarrassed, lonely and pitiful. I can't resist your indifference, your roar, your hysteria. I just want to become a street rat and find a dark hole to get into.

three

Poetry and wine are always out of reach. The sky is clear and empty, the earth is vast, ice and flowers are together, and the withered will eventually wither and rot. My time is passing away, my time is dead, invisible and invisible, without a trace. Yes, it is dead, dead and dead.

Those bustling light and shadow are full of leaves and ashes, and the light in the eyes is dim little by little until it loses all its luster.

The sky of our love blooms in the maple leaves in autumn, cools and sinks, permeates the yellow land, sinks into the grave, sinks into the dark moment when we will never see the sun, and time takes away all the joys and sorrows.

In my castle in the air, in my barren countryside, the flowers I once loved have blossomed, the wintersweet that fought against frost and snow, the chrysanthemums that greeted the sunrise and dusk alone in the east hedge, the fragrant cordate telosma in the dark night, the epiphyllum that bloomed instantly, and everything, there is a little shadow everywhere.

However, the gorgeous fireworks, the color that makes people feel happy, passed away a little from the beginning of my life, and finally escaped from this once warm space to a place where I don't know where to go, empty, empty, empty.

Those colorful times have passed away ... with the last imagination and hope, they ascended the totem far away from the clouds. Since then, the clouds in Yuan Ye have wandered around together, and the sky is its ubiquitous home, including body and soul.

I don't want to see this colorful world again, and I don't want to hear your gorgeous or luxurious words again. I am insignificant, I am insignificant, I am the loneliest shadow in this dark night, and I don't want to hear solemn dedication and sweet praise.

You have a beautiful face and good eyes. I am an old book in a corner that has been dusty for a long time, and I can't bear so many novel and glamorous things. Lao Huang's handwriting makes distant time have a little meaning, which is ignored by the world family. Only you are deeply engraved in time, and when you suddenly think of it occasionally, you are still shining and moved to tears.

Lonely night, hazy night, hazy horizon, lively night, silent night, how many old days have already disappeared in that ignorant eighteen years old.

That's it. Everything is in vain. You knock three times, worship six times, and you are as devout as martial arts. Everything is not satisfactory. Everything is full of other people's blessings. Everything was changed by someone else. Everything is a crystal clear oath. Everything is fierce, and everything is ambitious.

I am a chess piece that was mercilessly eaten without crossing the river. I didn't say a word, but I was as silent as a stone. I can't be a little unhappy and forced to smile. I used all my skills in other people's colorful rhetoric. I am taciturn. I am a city like Waterloo, barren, lonely, dull and dead. You leave me and I stay, splashing ink and splashing ink, vigorous.

Only the old friend who tells the truth and doesn't say beautiful words is still silently accompanying you, without half an oath. Only the comfortable figure warms the whole spring.

Like a statue struggling to stay, every dusk is restless and calm. In the dark, I stretched out my weak hands to the dawn. I know that everything is fleeting, and everything is in vain.

Despised love is still miserable, trampled wishes are still in a mess, and memories make my smiling face overcast. At this sunset, I am eager to kneel down and beg. At this dawn, I dedicate my sadness and love to the burning dawn and a melodious spring breeze.

four

Mountain streams, Yuan Ye, tombs, brilliant flowers, brilliant seasons, you will never find the fragrance you can rely on. Those wild flowers, purple flowers, yellow flowers and white flowers are everywhere. Who is thinking about who is walking in Yuan Ye, looking for it, stopping and finding that the past is light and shadow, dear you.

Frost leaves are red. On a slightly cool day, a life came into this world without crying or surprise. He still doesn't understand human language. In what season, flowers bloom and fall, a life walks around with a smile, and then disappears forever in this vast and prosperous world.

After the autumn harvest, the empty sky is full of surprises. Where did the weeping geese in vilen fly? The prosperity and struggle of a season finally ended in a season. Sunshine is no longer sunshine, and shadow is no longer shadow. The wind blows through Yuan Ye, hometown, foreign land and unknown places.

The surprise of life, the surprise, once flashed, the cold star in the dark night once stung anyone's gentle dream, and the dry land was covered with broken wings, and the wind blew away the yellow sand and broken catkins.

You are so sweet when you don't understand human language. The scenery of the soul is like a stream in a mountain stream, gurgling through every season and every inch of land. The floating starlight and moonlight in the night stunned the birds in the forest.

Who is still at the bitter bottom of the well, salvaging the galaxy with the light of youth, and who is still looking for those souls who seem to have nothing in the dark night? When did the innocent dream wake up? At freezing point and boiling point, I walked past this naked vilen.

The city is bustling and the lights are dim. You are a lonely one. Go and see, the world, you only know a little, a little, music, a little music, the past is long, and that cup of coffee contains many joys and sorrows. Where am I, where is the night, there is no emotion, only the quiet night, witches, fairies, Chang 'e, and so on.

Whispering, let the roses bloom quietly in the night, tears and starlight together, fill this silent Yuan Ye and the night, everything grows and everything is alive. At this moment, you are your friend and everything is so far away. In this quiet night, you can't see the witch's talk, and you can't see the silence of Chang 'e tonight.

Only this month is bright and quiet. On such a night, the buds of spring grow quietly in the leaves. There is no miracle in the world, everything is dull, and it is useless to cry or laugh over the loss. Everything is calm. I am lonely, because I can't see the wings of the angel, I can't hear the song of Chang 'e, and I can only stare silently in the cold palace and in the sad night.

I sleep because I'm going to sleep. I have no reason to wake up. I had a beautiful dream. My love was vividly expressed in painful tears. I'm awake. When everything is sleeping, this city, vilen, looks particularly lonely and warm. I seem to see wild swans flying in the night sky, and the little fairy whispering in her dream and smiling gently.

five

Everything is immortal, there is no need to be afraid of death. Whether you are seventeen or seventy, there is no death and darkness in this world. Who is calling for a century, a century in the past and a century in the future in the dark? Who is walking into a Yuan Ye, a starlight, a warm little house and a witch's dream?

In the bustling square, I found a witch who seems to have both good and evil in the corner, or a panicked savage. I want to hear his stumbling words such as epilepsy and madness. I don't believe in any hunches, and I'm not afraid of any ominous signs. I don't avoid slander and blow. How does this evil poison this pure world? This pure sunset, the world is not dead. The stars are still there, and the moonlight is still there.

I don't have a strong body or the magic of my soul. I walked through a moonlit night and a piece of Yuan Ye. The wind blew away the tired soul and the clear moonlight. I have no direction to go. I walked north and south, dust was raised on the grassland, and dark horses flew over the grassland. In spring, the new swallows pecked at the soil in spring, playing and laughing.

Who's prediction will collapse, trembling, I tied my fate to the saddle, no matter now or in the future, the moonlight is still strange, I will stand upright on the horse orange, the ignorant and reckless boy.

I am content with the decay of my life, and I am willing to give my life as a reward to repay vilen on this moonlit night and qingqing grasslands on this galloping horseshoe.

Xu Lai, a cool breeze, once drank alone on a moonlit night with the bright moon in the sky, telling stories of past lives and lonely new people, splashing ink on rivers and clinging to endless love in this world. Now there are only 3,000 white hairs left, and the moon splashed the Milky Way, and the spring water was suffocating. Look at the long road, the lights are dim, the wind and flowers are exhausted, and everything is empty. It is heartbreaking to say where you will go. Tonight, in this quiet night sky, the moon is full of illusory charm.

Listening to the rushing water under the bridge and the shadows of trees in the mountain stream. Who remembers the long, thoughtful moonlight? After this section, the red flowers on the other side of the river are full of banks. After drinking this bowl of Meng Po soup, everything will soon disappear.

I want to use my death to realize the resurrection of time, a dream, lying in bed at night listening to the rain at sunset, which really hurts my heart.

six

Wind, flowers, snow, the moon ... Everything blooms silently, lightning destroys, worships the light, all the dark moments, in the tunnel of time, I don't wake up, the grass by the green river, the storm, sighing, looking forward to spring, I stand at night like an empty scarecrow, let the bright moon illuminate the floating dust on my body, and accumulate thicker and thicker, looking forward to spring, a foreign land.

In this way, I walked down the hillside in the imaginary evening breeze and walked into the quiet moonlight of my hometown. Who is singing the stars, the stars and the moon? I can't go back to my hometown. It's white, and the moonlight is bleak. I'm sad alone. In the hometown of that children's song, it's still early for cats to catch mice on January 1. ...

Who lost his direction when he couldn't find the past? Who was illuminated by a beam of light in this dark night? Where is the gentle shoulder? Those who crushed your despair gave this dark night star. You have your direction, he has his past, and the moon is bright and open tonight.

Flowers bloom. On such a night, one flower, two flowers, three flowers, at this moment, the clear moonlight and crystal tears, I read and thought, and I walked and sang. In a poem, I walked Wan Li Road through Wan Li and crossed the waters of Qian Shan. Don't ask, don't tell, this quiet night is enough. At this moment, there is no need for words, no need, no need at all.

Only the heart, through the dust, only love, changes the world. You walk in your magnificent sea of people, I walk in this dark night, in the silent and warm moon, in the heart of heaven, you, in my heart.

202 1.3. 1 1 abundance write it down.

4.4 modification

7. 19 finalized

Jiang Jianhua, whose pen name is Sheng Feng, was born in Dongping, Shandong. Graduated from the Chinese Department of Tai 'an Normal University, a student of the Senior Research Class of Young Writers of Zhejiang Writers Association. His works have been published in Shandong Literature, Selected Prose, Children's Literature, Prose Poetry World, Along the River, Ma Jun, Prose Poetry, Writer's Daily, China Youth Daily and Taian Daily. He has won the Excellent Prose Award of China Academy of Fine Arts, Excellent Prose of Dunhuang (preface by Xie Mian), Third Prize of Zixiang Huaibei National Network Literature Competition (Jia Pingwa as a consultant and Li Guoping as a judge of Contradictory Literature Award), Third Prize of Excellent Works of Changjiang Literature and Art Publishing House and Huacheng Publishing House, and Third Prize of Cup National Prose Competition, as well as Excellent Essay Award of "Eulogizing Great Wuhan in the New Era" of Wuhan Municipal Committee Propaganda Department and Cultural Tourism Bureau. The essay "Butterfly Night" was selected in China Writers' Network of China Writers Association (20 18), and the essay "The Boy named Deng Xixian" was selected in Qilu Literature Exhibition of Shandong Writers Association (20 18), and other books were selected. He was awarded the honorary title of advanced individual who supported Beichuan's post-disaster recovery and reconstruction by Shandong Provincial Health Department. Ju Taian.