Mondwächter
Thema drucken
12.08.2019 03:47
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Walking on the edge of the flamboyant, where should a fascinating heart go to store peace? I put myself aground, in the early autumn of this misty rain, looking at you from a misty mist, my hometown. You are the pain that I am faint in my heart. In what year, I can come back to you... my hometown. The big stream of clouds, squeezing, rushing over the city, and the large floor-to-ceiling windows separate the outside world from me. I only hope that the crystal double-glazed glass will block the city's hustle and bustle together. I just want to be quiet, one person, one window, a slightly gray heart, standing upright, waiting for the one-meter sunlight to penetrate lightly. The cold wind, with the warmth of warm and jade, smoothing the breeze of my eyebrows, I used to look at the window, looking at the reinforced concrete forest, covering the sky, covering the blue sky, covering The white clouds cover the moon and cover the stars... Only the modern fashion and the neon are intertwined, only the sky is gray and gray... I have seen too many hustle and bustle, and have gone too hard. The big road has also seen too many beautifully decorated buildings. Between the traffic and the bustling, the eyes are full of demeanor, but more miss the original beauty, the night of the hometown of the long-lost city is colorful, the lights are lively and extraordinary, but I am a lonely outside the city. The soul can't always fit into the familiar environment. I always feel that the prodigal son is very similar to the orphans. They are the leaves in the wind. The duckweed in the water has no way of knowing where to come. I don��t know where to return. They are just passers-by in life. Often in the dead of night, suddenly picking up the memories of the spring lost in the years, let her dance with the night wind, embark on a long-lost journey like the early autumn of the hometown, the distant mountains, against the backdrop of the setting sun Next, sly and mysterious, the clouds in the sky, wandering with the wind, or rolling or comfortable, like a sky. The cool wind, the faint clouds, the sunset glow, the distant villages, the fields, the rivers nearby, the weeds, the boats, constitute a vivid watercolor. The egrets on the water fly low and round, bringing a sense of vitality to the serene picture Newport Cigarettes Coupons. The countryside in the sunset is beautiful, the wormwood green is striking, the reeds are white, and the distance is high, low, left and right, or a cluster of clusters, the color is different, and the distribution is scattered. A casual and free beauty. The stars of the wildflowers are like chess, fine and thin petals or red or yellow, or purple or pink or light blue, quietly hidden in the green grass and thorns, arbitrarily spread the bright colors of their own life. If these small flowers are connected together, it is a small flower sea! Looking at these little flowers in detail, I don��t want to leave for a long time. Surprised by the small and faint life, the little wildflowers born by nature are so condensed with such beauty and fragrance, how can we not make people move. Moved by it, there is no difference in life. Even in the wilderness, desert cold continent, as long as you have dreams and goodness, you can still open the flower of life and become a scenic bird of joy. In the air, the willow branches have not yet receded from the green shirt, dancing with the slight breeze of Manman, the weeping willows are bounded by the water, and the edge is a verdant lake. The soft water is like the chord of the piano. The oncoming autumn wind brings a touch of coolness. The summer flowers gradually retired silently, alongside the small roadside Carton Of Cigarettes, the red and white oleanders, but they greeted the autumn wind, still unfolding the flower. The light is slowly ending in the sky, and the beautiful flowers are grayed into a silent song in the cool words of the cool breeze. The tall camphor tree turns into a pale gray-green color in the night fog. Only the quiet fragrance left in the air, and it was slightly rippled in the autumn night. The clear water of the bay turned into a deep, deep blue under the night, and the water was slowly flowing, urging the roses that were quietly gone. The flowers fell gently against the emerald river embankment, and he left without hesitation... I vaguely returned to your arms, and the gentle, shy, tender voice came back with the waves of water, as if the poet deep inside, gently fiddled with my heartstrings. Suddenly, this seems to be a beautiful memory of childhood, and it seems to be a youthful and ignorant love, or a glimpse of homesickness. On the side of the body, a little bit of fluorescent light is flying, and the little insects carry green small lights. In this early autumn night, let the fire of life burn and burn, how tragic and beautiful. "The music of the summer that went far away, soaring in the autumn, seeking its old base." This is Tagore's verse, my childhood friend, you remember the time we spent together. "This is the time when you should sit still, as opposed to you, in this quiet and boundless leisure, sing the song of life." "I want to sing all the songs for you, sing all your loneliness and helplessness." "Where are you in my youth, will you still remember the rhythm of the frowning, and remember the dust of the guzheng." I will also remember the lightness of the rain and rain coming to you. However, my hometown is getting farther and farther away from me; my childhood partner is getting farther and farther away from me. After my youth, he is getting more and more away from me. Far. Due to the intrusion of modern civilization, my hometown is no longer "everything to look back on." The quiet and peaceful countryside has ceased to exist. Nowadays, tourists are woven, high-rise buildings such as forests, bustling hustle and bustle, neon lights have replaced the beautiful morning glow, and savvy calculations have replaced the simple inheritance. The hometown, the landscape is still the same, the figure has been smashed, let me feel that "people do not know where to go, peach blossoms Yu Jian, a Kunming poet who still laughs at the spring breeze, said, ��A new hometown makes my writing like a lie.�� Yes, in this era, there are too few things, too few slow things. However, we did not return to the rush, but the footprints behind us, the village, the figure, have long been missing. No hometown, no life experience, why do people confirm who they are? There is no place, no signposts, and how do people come from where they want to go? I really want to stroll through the autumn night, enjoy the moon and watch the stars Wholesale Cigarettes, talk to the gods in the sky, follow the change of nature, and enjoy the cycle of life. Taiwanese poet Xi Murong said: "The song of the hometown is a clear flute, always ringing at night with the moon. The face of the hometown is a vague ambiguity, as if waving in the fog. After the farewell, the homesickness is a A tree without an annual ring will never grow old.�� The homesickness is a smog that can��t be swayed. It��s a stream that grows and flows. It��s on the other side, I��m at this end, I��m worried. Never stop. In the dusk of the setting sun, I stare at the birds that are homing. My heart is filled with faint sorrow. If time can go back, whether I am born or dead, I will reunite with you. My hometown, my love will be with you. No matter who you are, please take me with me, please take me back to my hometown, she is in the depths of the clouds... But, my dream hometown, are you still beautiful? I am thinking of my hometown, can I approach you? |
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