Lyric prose without memory

Recalling the past lyric prose 1 spent too much, but it was always outside the window; The prosperity is exhausted, and no matter how many drops, it is just a memory in the depths of the soul.

The weeping willows swaying in the wind, like a pendulum, often repeat themselves and repeat the cycle of the previous second. As time goes by, the gears get older and older, and the pendulum loses its accuracy. Sometimes it feels like a bus keeps repeating the same route. Busy world and endless stream of people are all busy in their own world. After living in other people's world for too long, I finally found that everyone has his own world, whether it is a happy paradise in the eyes of the world or a sinful purgatory. As long as you walk through it, it is a beautiful paradise, with its own joys and sorrows, its own ups and downs, and its own sweat that wets the skirt. ...

The stream of memory flows in the long river of time.

The time that can't be caught, as light as an hourglass and as slow as sunshine, always goes through the transformation from sunrise to sunset inadvertently. The long river of years, there are too many confusions, too many unknowns, and so many people who are at a loss and used to dormitories and classrooms. But forget the wind, forget the rain, forget the quiet night that can only be used for memories. Scattered lights will be missed past lives and afterlife. One step is heaven, and before stepping out, it is also the horizon. As we all know, a happy country will have all kinds of sweetness, but these have long been forgotten and far away.

Memories are spinning in the passing time, and the calm lake can't lift a trace of microwave. I don't want to miss too much last romance like an hourglass.

Looking back, too many beautiful memories have created today's inexplicable pain, and I don't want to touch the past bits and pieces.

Xi Murong said, "Friendship is like flowers. It's better to be light. The lighter it is, the longer it lasts. The lighter it is, the more people want to stay. " Is that really the case? If it's too light to forget, why stay?

In the past years, although someone touched your dusty heart, he could only watch and suddenly remembered Han Chenglie. He created a pure love, and Song Meiling, who was clever as ice and snow, made this affectionate man. The purity and purity of these two people's love is the best redemption for this love.

I know, I can only define some things as once, and the once sensational has turned into a faint memory. Time made me lose everything and let me have everything. It turns out that the round earth has turned around for a week, and people come and go in that place, which is both familiar and strange. Later, I found that I still live well without you; Only then did I find that those so-called sad knots were just ripples in an instant.

If you love each other, don't forget each other.

Memories of Lyric Prose 2 Spring breeze in April, with scattered raindrops, until the drizzle falls, the innocence in the memory ripples and the breeze blows gently. The passage of time is sighing and silent.

It is another sad season, spring. Really beautiful, very young, really good. A bald head often sighs that time and tide wait for no man. When I was young, I didn't understand.

In the endless years, we are only a small part of it. After a hundred years, it dissipated and hurried, and the years flowed relentlessly. Who knew we had been here?

Or the wind, or the rain, but I have never talked about myself. Time is like a song, one moment is sad, the other moment is confused.

Looking back on my childhood, I always want to be on a par with the sky, always want to be a hero, always want others to respect me, be stupid or not, but that is naive. What cannot be changed is a truth.

Years! Ruthlessly take away our truth. Let's learn hypocrisy and deception. How I envy those children, they can be carefree and carefree. What about me? But just bury yourself and don't let anyone find you. This is really stupid! Unfortunately, I can't go back.

When I was a child, the country road was full of sadness and happiness. I will remember crying and laughing with my friends. How memorable and precious. Unfortunately, I can't go back.

I went back to my hometown and watched the sunset. The rest of the red light filled my childhood heart at that time. I still remember telling a girl that when I grow up, I will take you to see the sunset and see the sunset all over the world, but now I don't know how others are doing. The more memories, the sadder. I'd love to go back, but I can't.

The starry sky at night is particularly beautiful, but it is inevitable that a person will be lonely when he is guarding the empty and shabby house in his hometown. Recalling that time, an old man's chair, a cattail leaf fan and a young father sat in the chair, shook the cattail leaf fan and looked at the starry sky in the yard. It was very comfortable, but now, the white hair has climbed the mountains and temples, and I really want to go back, but unfortunately I can't.

Glory is always glory, eyes are always full of god, but that was just the past. I fantasized about traveling all over the country like I did on TV, but now I find it's just desolate.

Ah ah ah ah! No breakfast, hungry, forget it, it's time for lunch! Write this article even if you are hungry.

At the beginning of April, a faint spring breeze swept my face, strolled under the pale yellow light, and looked at the unknown wild flowers beside me, feeling a little reluctant. Step by step, I walked into the crowd, looked at the people around me and listened to the noise of people, but I felt a yearning in my heart. Once, I was involved in such an environment with a person. Now, I am the only one walking in this messy place. At this point, a series of familiar silvery laughter came from behind. Looking back, there was no one behind. It turns out that everything is just in my imagination.

Flowers bloom and fall, the past is like water, tossing and turning, as if everything is in sight. The cold wind in spring intoxicated me. If life is only the first time, even if I walk alone in this chaotic city, there will be no trace of melancholy. However, if life is only the first time, it is better to see it.

Looking back, the scenery has never changed, only time, you and me.

Those lost stories, the roads we have traveled, and the passions we have experienced will always exist in the fleeting time and fade away in our hearts. Perhaps, forgetting and nostalgia are the same, and they are all youthful, simple and beautiful memories in that time called youth.

Some things, once missed, can never find the feeling once.

Some people, once lost, can only become passers-by in life.

Some years, once passed, can only recall fleeting time.

The lost time is like a flowing stream, which will only flow farther and farther. The once youthful feelings are so beautiful and happy now, however, even this simple happiness will slowly fade away until it disappears.

In the middle of the night, the cool spring breeze with a faint feeling, calm down and listen carefully. The breeze seems to pour out love for spring. Time passes through your fingers, and looking back may have been an eternal cycle.

Memories, like a cup of bitter coffee without sugar, first feel bitter, and then, the faint aroma and sweetness of coffee come, and I am intoxicated with the sweetness after this bitterness.

Sadness is still playing, street lamps illuminate the corner of midnight, and I want to draw your face in the middle of the night. However, I can't bear to draw your face in this crude way, so I have to bury that expression in my heart.

Perhaps, one day in the future, you and I will meet again in a few romantic months. However, even if we meet again, we will only say hello faintly, or pass by like strangers.

Now, I can only try my best to keep my memory, wait for the flowers to bloom next year, recall your face on the other side of heaven, and then draw it on an unfortunate rock. The next time I come back here, maybe I will remember the face engraved in my soul in this life.

Spring breeze strikes, memories pass away, and thousands of generations are unforgettable. Unfortunately, beauty lies in the heart.

Colleagues in the company were overjoyed and invited to attend the wedding in his country. In early winter, just after the light snow, the temperature in South Guangdong stays in autumn, neither too cold nor too hot, and the sky is clear and bright, so pleasant.

The car drove downtown for half an hour and finally got on the expressway. Leaving the city, people suddenly became relaxed. Perhaps the horizon is broadened, the sky is higher, and the heart is gradually broadened; Or maybe the air is fresh, and the original depression has drifted away with the wind.

The green hills and trees moved backward, and it was already four o'clock in the afternoon when they entered the Qingyuan boundary. Green trees, hay and the sun in the west all walked lazily to the home behind the mountain. The dusk in early winter is a little sad.

The rice in the fields along the way has been harvested, leaving a string of short rice stalks. The fields are so empty!

The wind is silent, the golden light shines obliquely, and the fields are so quiet and peaceful. Cattle are leisurely eating straw; The rice left in the field became a paradise for chickens. ...

In the village near the field, the smoke from the kitchen has floated to the roof. There is a saying that there is a short dinner in the slack days. Milky white smoke, the cooking stove must be burning straw. I seem to smell the fragrance of burning straw and hear the crackling cheers of burning straw. Perhaps this is an illusion and a memory of childhood rural life.

At sunset, for me, these memories are so close and kind to me, just like a paradise in the depths of memories.

At the eastern end of the village, there is a lotus pond. At dusk, the branches and leaves in the lotus pond look very bleak. Incomplete beauty can make people feel moved!

Although the lotus pond is now in decline, I can imagine its prosperity in midsummer ... graceful lotus flowers dance in the wind, intoxicating floral fragrance seeps into the heart, and dragonflies are swaying on the blue waves at the tip of budding buds, lingering in the wind. ...

Soon, the scenery here has been left behind by cars and disappeared from sight. What followed was inexplicable loss.

So is the journey of life. Time flies, I have experienced a lot, with joy, sadness, longing and loss. Only some pain and some sweetness can be left in the final memory, and the rest will drift away and fade away with the years!

Time is shallow, and those fragments of the past are scattered in the fleeting years, full of pain and warmth, but the memory is vague and so clear.

-inscription

I always can't settle down to write a complete text, but I'm at a loss when I pick up the pen tonight, and I can't go on writing. My mind is blank, without any words and vocabulary, and the topic I just passed can't arouse my desire to write, so I have to twist all my feelings into lines and don't know how to weave and comb.

The night was quiet for a long time, and the lights dimmed, but I didn't want to turn off the last light. A ray of light will make me feel warm, and I will feel the air agglutination through the warm red light. At this time, your fingertips will swim on the keyboard, so many beautiful pictures will be portrayed in your mind from the beginning. When all thoughts and situations began to run through my fingertips, I realized that sometimes my brain would be half a beat slower than my fingertips. The intermittent rhythm, like the trajectory of life, extends infinitely in space. In this cold midnight, there is no silence and bitterness as I imagined, and many people pass by us; A lot of things have passed. Looking back, I couldn't find the original road, and the frost froze the colors. Different scenes under the set are constantly changing. Many times, too many landscapes are missed by me, and the faint colors will always slip away in my mind inadvertently. And time is always like sand flowing through your fingers, lingering memories. This scene will always touch my heart instantly, twisting into a poem, which is actually a warm feeling, and years will always take away too much beauty.

When you open your memory, the happy past in your life and the pain that you dare not touch will come to you in loneliness. How many past events are wasted in memories that can't be awakened, which makes people dream and admire their brow. As time goes by, the deeper the wrinkles, the more haggard they become. This kind of sadness about the scene often condenses and accumulates. Those so-called forgotten times, the tenderness that once lingered around, are scattered in the air at the moment.

Wandering alone in this world of mortals, looking back, there are always some memories left, and some will pass away. Stepping into the age of no doubt, I feel a lot. Memories and watchfulness open up the clarity of my dreams. Looking back at the flowing time, there will always be too many traces. Time is lightly smeared with a poem without words, and the lintel of memory will always be lightly smeared on the letterhead inadvertently. Those hurried past will always quietly knock on the door of memory with the quiet night.

I wish I could brew an atmosphere, get rid of distractions, hold a book in the morning when the morning dew is slightly drunk, and read quietly in the yard full of flowers. There are birds singing in my ears. Fog stained the window, full of soft thoughts. Those past events in life, like a chrysanthemum, exude fresh fragrance under the action of cold dew, gently pass through the fingertips, moisten the thoughts, all the beautiful past moments solidify into paintings, and the deep and shallow memories drift away with the dead leaves.

I want to put aside my distractions, concentrate on writing some words and admire myself. On a shallow moonlit night, sitting in front of the screen, string the sadness and happiness of every day into a paragraph. Record a mental journey. I hope that in this quiet winter night, I can taste a cup of fragrant tea and listen to a song to record how many years have passed. A person wandering aimlessly, all kinds of words and beautiful melodies decorate the whole mood, and my thoughts flow slowly, gently and passionately like a stream. The most difficult thing to let go is those that have become an inseparable part of life: the persistence of white clouds and blue sky, the deep affection of green leaves for roots, and the silent concern and silent protection of the distance between heaven and earth are all highlights of life, which will lead to fleeting time. Although it's a little cold tonight, it's warm. At this time, I will feel real, without any hypocrisy and affectation.

Time passes gently with the gradual thinning of the calendar, and perhaps only by experiencing transformation on the road of life can we understand the true meaning of life more deeply. Sleepless in the past, listening to the memories of the past abandoned by the years, the good old days, I gave the smiling face to the years, to nature, to helplessness, and I have settled myself in life. With the years of easy aging, the pen is endless. Those deep memories, like fireflies that cut through the night, are gone forever. Time has taken away not only everything in the past, but also many things that have been fixed in eternal frames. Everyone has his own happiness. When the noise is gone and the prosperity is gone, the inexplicable disappointment in my heart will gradually drift away. Many times I think, whether it is happiness or happiness, it is just my own state of mind, and who can know who is lonely inside.

Life is walking, half sorrow and half understanding. There is a saying that lingers in my heart, and it is too late to say it. Go around, enrich and regret. Looking through the diary left by time, every minute passes, perhaps life has passed in this minute, from birth to death, from obscurity to stormy waves, from prosperity to peace. If life is really like a dream, a song, a song, can we really learn to be calm and indifferent? If life is a journey, then time must be a wise man who walks with you. No matter whether it is smooth sailing or setbacks all the way, you will gain experience and lessons from it, from initial impulse to calmness and peace, from initial dream to final reality.

The cruel reality is constantly tossing and turning in the years and accumulating in life. For example, the running water of the years overflowed the traces of time, and those distant dull notes filled all the past, flowing with a warm memory. Walking with time, we are all passers-by, looking at the scenery with our eyes and remembering the fallen agarwood with our hearts. Wandering on the ferry of time, remembering those good times. Wandering with the poem in the deep alley, the faint thoughts, shallow injuries, entangled with the soul, sharing all the happy times and lost years, no matter whether the past ends with a happy face or a broken heart, I will not resent it. The past period of time can hardly be compared with the passage of time. In the long river of life, happiness and sadness are all about life, ignoring the past years, gathering the beauty of the past in the red dust, and warming my future years. Even if I can look down on the secular world and describe happiness with the fingertips of the past, I can't hide the rings and vicissitudes of the years. Those fragments that can't be read carefully, those memories that laugh at the years, all pass quietly with the rings of time.

Standing at the crossroads of time, I hope to understand something. Looking back on the past years, how many things have changed. Those distant memories gradually fade away, and that feeling is so warm, leaving too much beauty. Over time, I began to like to write down my love and peace in words, and to record my gratitude and blessings with my fingertips. I like to communicate with my friends with words, close my eyes and savor the beauty of every moment. Even if there are occasional regrets or regrets, is it an experience of life? Soft and light colors and sharp strokes meet on such a winter night. The cycle of time is eternal. A sigh floated to my fingertips through the crack of the door. Looking back is too shallow to lock the drifting memories. Memories as thin as wings, with the passage of time, are lightly embedded in the album of time alone, dotted with painting skills, a season of fleeting time, and a pen of sadness. Years are like sand, flowing through our fingers, and time makes us understand all the stops in our experience. Gone forever, in the memories of the lost years, in the scenery of the years, gently unfolded by the fingertips. Looking back quietly, those warm ink paintings embedded in time are the best memories in memory.

With the rapid development of social modernization, the "primitive" homesickness that I first saw in my hometown as a child has gradually been forgotten by most people, and some of them have almost lost their historical imprint. A few days ago, I had the opportunity to visit Wuling Agricultural Civilization Museum in Zixing City, Hunan Province, where I saw a long-lost childhood impression and the hidden nostalgia memory was suddenly awakened. In a strong sense, I really want to write something, aiming to record some historical fragments of hometown, homesickness and homesickness for future generations, so as to retain the nostalgic memories that have gradually passed away ... so that young people can know history and learn to be grateful; Let the old people recall the years and ease their homesickness.

It is often said that it is difficult to leave one's motherland. After leaving my hometown for decades, I feel more and more homesick. My hometown is in southern Hunan, a beautiful land of fish and rice in the south of the Yangtze River. This is an important birthplace of the Chinese nation, and the traditional culture here is profound and has a long history. However, since the reform and opening up, great changes have taken place in agriculture, rural areas and farmers. The traditional way of production and life has gradually drifted away, and people have inadvertently stopped picking up the fading nostalgic memories.

There is a feeling that belongs only to wanderers. People who have never left will not understand how long they have been waiting for reunion and how much they expect from their hometown.

However, migration, like an irresistible historical torrent, roughly pushes the world's hundreds of millions of people from rural areas to cities. It is another year's "homecoming season". Looking back at the homesickness and wondering about the destination, the wanderer is examining the transformation from an agricultural society to an industrial society.

Now, when I meet people near my village, not only things have changed, but people are wrong. A media worker described the new countryside as follows: more people play mahjong, fewer people farm, cultural gaps appear, spiritual beliefs are lost, and the tradition of "the poor don't throw away books, the rich don't throw away pigs" is abandoned. ...

The impression of hometown is strong, although the memory is not very comprehensive, but some of them are very real after unforgettable history.

"In the past 40 years, many rural affairs and homesickness have gradually disappeared from the countryside. If we don't pay attention to recording and saving them, our descendants will not see these things. " My uncle once said to me.

At stake, my heart aches. There are also some authentic historical works! Yes, I feel strongly today that we can't let future generations ignore these. ...

Let me talk about some farming that no longer exists.

When I was a child, I saw people pulling plows to plow fields. Although it was accidental, I did witness it with my own eyes. Pulling a plow, isn't there a cow? Maybe someone will say. I didn't know that the historical conditions were limited at that time. Speaking of which, a picture immediately came to mind. Under the scorching sun, an old farmer was carrying a plow. He had just finished pulling it. The other end of the plow stands on the second man's shoulder. He not only has to contribute, but also helps plow the land. It must be an old hand to help plow, otherwise the plow will not work well if it is shallow, and it will not pull if it is deep. The most important thing is that the two must keep in sync. Two men were carrying a rope and plowing the whole field in knee-deep paddy fields with the sun on their backs. The expression on their faces was very tired and indifferent ... Think of men born in the forties and fifties, and guess that some people have such experiences, and they will never forget such experiences.

I saw a bucket when I was a child. There'd better be strong labor in the bucket. If possible, everyone will be assigned a "coolie" to pick up food and be responsible for transportation. The thresher held the rice grain in his arms, lifted it to his shoulders, slammed it down toward the bucket board, patted it and shook it, and the rice grain fell into the bucket. You start to fall and bang, and gradually, several small grain piles are built at the corner of the bucket. When the barrel was full of Huang Chengcheng's rice, the rice picker immediately picked it up and took it to the threshing floor. The thresher just rested for a while, took out a withered cigarette and smoked it. I seldom see such a scene. Later, rice threshers and electric rice threshers gradually developed to replace grain hoppers.

I saw a pattern when I was a child. The role of mortar is generally used to mash a small amount of brown rice, miscellaneous grains, rice flour and flour, and can also be used to make rice cakes. Nowadays, with the progress of society, the reform of the old has gradually withdrawn from the historical stage, but the good memories of our time will never fade.

Then let me talk about my own work experience.

For rural people, there are only two bitter things in the world, one is double robbing and the other is killing firewood. I believe that the children of farmers who can pass these two levels will not be too tired.

First, double robbery. The hottest mid-July to the end of the year is the wettest and sultry season for harvesting early rice and planting late rice in South China. In the rural areas from the 1970s to the early 1980s, double robbing was a major event. Children as young as seven or eight years old and old people as old as sixty or seventy years old should take part in this important farm work. The scene was sweaty and full of enthusiasm, leaving early and returning late.

Collectivization takes more than half a month to complete the "double grab" and the "August 1 ST". It usually takes three to five days for a family to collect rice and plant seedlings. During this time, fatigue is inevitable, because there are still things to do in the middle, such as killing firewood, keeping vigil in the valley, putting night water, watering the garden and picking up domestic manure.

In the large group, those who fail to get off work in time, those who leave early and those who have not completed the task will be deducted from their work points. At that time, they will be assigned according to their work. We are stricter about double robbing. Agricultural schools are full of enthusiasm, but there are also people who don't work hard. I was born in the mid-sixties, because I went out to study late, and the highest score set by the production team was three points and five points.

I am tired of being robbed, but I really feel the joy of harvest, see the hope of the field, and smell the fresh air and the smell of crops in the land. All this has left an indelible memory for all the senses.

Now that summer has come, it will remind me of the summer at that time: almost everyone is grabbing the past, missing work, land and hometown. I really envy the leisure of rural people now. With the progress of society and the improvement of mechanization, the labor intensity is greatly reduced. In the past, the unforgettable pain of double robbing was like yesterday, but it has passed. In midsummer, cicadas and birds sing in the fields, and the works become poetic aftertaste.

Then say to kill firewood (that is, chop firewood up the mountain).

When I was a child, there was no coal in my hometown, let alone gas and gas, only straw and firewood. At that time, life in the countryside was very poor. Many children about my age, some even much younger than me, went up the mountain to cut wood.

There are no mountains in our village, only fields. Therefore, it takes about twenty miles to go up the mountain to cut wood. The flat land is densely populated, and there is no firewood to kill on the flat mountain. You have to enter the hinterland of the mountain from the mountain stream path for more than 6 miles a month, and there is firewood. You have to walk at least 30 miles back and forth a day, one third of which is a mountain road. Time is tight, so you need to take your lunch to the mountains. I remember once, I went to chop wood with a little brother next door. I still didn't go home when it was dark. As a result, the family sent people into the mountains to find it.

I have less experience in killing firewood, but it is unforgettable. Especially the memory of the first time I went up the mountain to cut firewood, which accompanied me all my life. In retrospect, the whole process and scene at that time were vivid.

In my mind, what I remember from childhood till now is herding cattle (we call it watching cattle). When I was a child, my father worked outside because he was a national cadre. In people's eyes, our children were taken care of by the "official households" at that time, but the loneliness and distress of rural childhood became my deep memory. In order not to be so obedient and excluded, I have been "watching cows" for the production team since I was six years old, helping my mother get some work points. This "look" is not important. I have been "watching" until 14 years old ... The memory of this stage is profound. I spared seven cows, and some of them had deep feelings. There are no mountains and grasslands in our country, and the fields are full of rice. Hold the cow closely, or the cow will be scolded for "eating the grain" or "eating the beans on the ridge". What is particularly difficult is that I go to junior high school and have to go to places six or seven miles away in class. The people in the production team can't go to school until the cows are full. ...

Finally, talk about the unforgettable homesickness in homesickness memory.

Speaking of tasting new things. Speaking of tasting new rice, the most unforgettable thing is the original feeling in the countryside. At that time, people had no oil or water, so almost every family didn't have enough food. Although it is a rice producing area, there is no rice to eat after the spring. Fortunately, the government has some grain sales, which can help itself. At that time, the amount of anti-selling grain was small, and more things like sweet potatoes were planted. Many people are hungry, and they are pale and emaciated. So people are looking forward to harvesting new rice. Looking forward to, looking forward to the yellow rice in the field, looking forward to eating new rice as soon as possible.

At that time, the new rice was just ripe, and the production team always had to cut some rice first, give each person two or three kilograms to improve the food, and then distribute the food after autumn. In my opinion, new rice is really delicious. The cooked rice is milky white, and the rice grains seem to be oiled and do not touch the rice bowl. As soon as the rice is cooked, the room is full of fragrance. It's delicious in your mouth, and you can eat several bowls without any food. A big boy must be hungry without a kilo of rice. After dinner, people's spirits are different, their backs are erect, their steps are fast, and they are particularly energetic in their work. During the break, young people can get together and wrestle. Remember that when trying new products, you can buy some meat when you have good conditions at home, and you can eat it unconditionally with eggplant. Among them, eggplant is now used to make chicken legs, which is delicious. Now think about it, there is no shortage of food, and rice can be eaten vigorously. But I can't eat that smell anymore.

Second, say New Year greetings. "Adults look forward to the fields and children look forward to the New Year". The new year is coming, and there is joy everywhere. Knock on the window and go in. A few years later, this feeling is as deep and shallow as the air floating across my cheeks and the wood that has run over history.

When I was a child, Chinese New Year was pure expectation. You can eat delicious food beautifully; You can wear beautiful new clothes; You can put mom and dad on the bed, open brand-new lucky money and count it repeatedly; You can pull your parents' skirts to visit relatives and friends, earning full candy and full praise; You can collect a lot of beautiful cellophane with your sister, fold it into flowers of various shapes, string it up and hang it in front of your bed, and have your own dreams; I can play with my younger brother and set off firecrackers ... In the face of such a simple and real achievement, I am full of expectations and happiness for the new year.

When I grow up, I miss the Spring Festival. Although it is very weak, I will find a quiet moment and record my little feelings in my diary. Or, just sit by the window and make a small New Year's resolution.

Nowadays, Chinese New Year has become a kind of meaning. Chinese new year is to reunite with parents and release long-lost thoughts; China New Year is to show young people the colors of life and bring them joy. Chinese New Year is to find your sense of belonging again and again. Then I understood that no matter what kind of mood we are in, we still want to celebrate the New Year. We need such a specific day of the year to show our childlike happiness and express our long-standing feelings. The Spring Festival is not so much a festival as a release of mood. It is hidden somewhere in time, waiting for you to meet it. Therefore, no matter how others judge, we still want to celebrate the New Year!

There are many, so rural, so special, with a strong flavor, people will never forget. ...

Xi Murong said, "The songs of my hometown are the flutes of Qingyuan, which always ring with the moon at night. The face of my hometown is a vague melancholy, like waving my hand in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old. " Social development, current events change and history will eventually go away. Nostalgia that can't be abandoned may retain nostalgic memories that have gradually passed away? Seeing mountains, watching water and remembering homesickness, how can so many homesickness and homesickness be easily forgotten? I look forward to keeping homesickness and simplicity, which is the spiritual concept that future generations in this hometown can still uphold and stick to after crossing the long river of history!