Immortal insomnia

He failed! 1200 years ago. Paper so big so long, however, is not his name, only can not accommodate his name "Zhang Ji" two words.

The names of the people in the exam are written on the list, which is known to all. Oddly enough, in his mind, failing the exam was the only thing known. It made him ashamed and depressed.

Leave the capital! The price was agreed, and he stepped into the boat. This was not what had been expected. There might have been a parade of flowers, a fluttering horse's hooves, and the glory of returning home in full glory. However, in the tenth year of the Cold Window, there was no seat for him at the feast in the Qionglin, despite his hanging beam and piercing strands.

The ship moves like the wind.

The river maple is like fire, holding the cold flame on the shore. That evening, the ship came to Suzhou, but this beautiful ancient city, for Zhang Ji, is just another place to touch the sadness.

If there is anything to do during the day, for a scholar, it is reading! And at night? You should sleep at night to refresh yourself for the next day. Tonight, however, is a sad night. Tonight, in a foreign land, in the river, in the autumn cold wild goose high season, allow a abjour unbriated sadness. The river, can be unlimited to accept the tears of all the people through the ages.

On such a night, I sat cruelly, listening to the sound of my heart being eaten away by something, and watching my life like a lamp in the wind. All my strength was spent resisting, the oil was running out, and the light fire could be extinguished every moment. However, it is hateful, in its whole life, it has never been beautiful!

The river slept, the ship slept, the boatman slept, and the people on the shore slept. Only he, Zhang Ji, was awake, the deeper the night, the more sober, sober like a tree with lost leaves, like an empty nest of Liang Yan flying away.

At first, it was sleep that rejected him. (Well, haven't you been rejected everywhere for half your life?) Then, it is he in anger, well, sleepless sleepless, long night alone awake, just completely to examine the wound for himself, why not?

The moon slanted to the west, looking uninterested. There are birds, rough hoarse, is a crow, the moon was it a call more bleak. On the river bank, think has frost knot thousands of grass. In the night sky, stars also like clear frost, one grain scattered desolate.

At the corner of his beard, at the tip of his brow, it seemed to him that there was also a chill in the shade, waiting for the frosts of early autumn to touch the face of his bleak youth.

What are they doing on the river? Are you fishing? Or, shrimp? Will they also cast an empty net? The world is hard! Even the handsome fisherman, can not help thrown into the storm!

However, can work hard, is also a kind of happiness! Tonight, the moon from its light, frost from the cold its cold, reassuring people in sleep, work people to work. Only I, Zhang Ji, is a person who does not care about heaven and earth, who has neither the right to work nor the blessing to sleep...

The bell is ringing, this strange night Hanshan Temple bell. General temples, are the evening drum morning bell, Hanshan temple rang "midnight bell" for warning. The bell came close to the water, and to others it was only the vague background music of sleep. In him, but a hit on the heart, hit the key. The bell is so beautiful, but the bell itself in the end is pain or no pain?

Since sleepless, he pushed the pillow up, in the dark to write "maple bridge night berth" four words. Then, copy the other 28 words. I say "copy" because those 28 words stood out in his heart like black letters on a white wall:

At moonset cry the crows, streaking the frosty sky

Dimly lit fishing boats neath maples sadly lie

Beyond the city walls, from Temple of Cold Hill

Bells break the ship-borne roamer's dream and midnight still

Thank God, if there is no defeated Zhang Ji, the history of poetry is short of a good poem, we have a mood, no one to speak out for us.

1,200 years later, who has ever appeared on that long list (the golden list that Zhang Ji couldn't get into)? Ha! Whoever he was, the real name he remembered was "Zhang Ji, the loser." Will anyone remember the grand scene when the first champion of that year paraded through the streets? No! We only remember the autumn night on the passenger ship that frustrated man, and his immortal insomnia.