Landscapes

A mast, which has just descended from the residual fog and light smoke of late spring, rises again from the white dilly strong wind of frosty autumn.

A zheng, which just drips with the geese falling from the flat sand of the Tang Dynasty, plays the Ziliao fishing song of the late Qing Dynasty with heavy ink and color.

A love seems to interpret the long road of life, and seems to embellish the scroll of life, long and sorrowful, elegant and graceful, beautiful and colorful.

I look up - look up at the vast sky, to see the clouds rolling, to stay unintentional; overlooking a hundred boats, a thousand sails, the landscape is still fascinating. Who is at the end of the lights, looking for her, regardless of the crowd of thousands of miles.

The vast stream of Xiang, the shocking waves. Still meeting at dusk, he stood at the riverside and shouted, "The world is drunk and I am alone, the people are drunk and I am alone awake, to see the release of ......". He sank with a stone and shed the immortal "Li Sao" for thousands of years, but what was left behind? The most important thing is that the heart and soul of the king is loyal. The seasons have moved on, but the landscape remains the same. The autumn breeze at sunset and the maple forest.

A bushel fan, shaking a thousand years, passing clouds, traces, is the ten thousand years of loyalty. Back in the day, who visited Wolonggang and visited three cottages? Back then, who was the White Emperor entrusted with the orphan? And you held up half of Liu's rivers and mountains. Back then ...... out of the division of the famous world, who is comparable to the second? Ancestral hall, the cigarette diffusion remains. Immersed in it, can not look back, Dongliu past, like a rising fog, in the dizzying meanderings of time, the moment to melt. When people hold candles and burn smoke, kowtowing, ask what they are paying tribute to. The season has moved on, how long has eternity been?

The scenery, carrying how much fierce wind and blood, carrying how much prosperity and change, carrying how many vicissitudes of the years? The tree's annual cycle in 2007 came, and deeply engraved on a. Eternal landscape, and how long can it last? Eternal eternity, transient transience. Loved autumn. She, cooled a hot anxiety, dulled the confusion of the past summer colorful. She, with the cool breeze, to all things dyed with a point of unknown light elegant. She hooked up the skirt of summer and set off a flutter of thoughts. Autumn, single-mindedly, chases the pace of summer, she wants to continue the rhythm of summer. When people believe in the excitement of following, autumn, in favor of creating the "endless fall of the curtain Xiao Xiao down" imagery, so that the winter gloom suddenly descend, so that the summer laughter precipitation. The arrival of autumn, we realized that the summer is always in the passionate and noisy dance, silently run away, and then cool, and then treasured. I just found that all the emotional excitement will eventually pass, all the colorful clamor will eventually fade. Time is always a taut string, tough and powerfully straight. Occasionally a shocking string, shaking the sky and earth, will eventually be annihilated in the never-ending waves of the universe, and the distant echoes together, is the implication of life.

The landscape, the test of history, the refinement of time, the review of the universe. Eternity, is the frame of time, in the universe of all things Yin Sheng, I'm afraid just floating dust.

Spring is born, summer grows, autumn harvest, winter hide. The process of life is originally the landscape, she seems to be destined from the radical to the peaceful, there are splendid to bland. Countless eternal scrolls entwine our hearts and minds, persistently searching for the soul's home. Countless changes pull our wandering footprints, is it wandering, or converting? Under a red maple, I picked red leaves and asked about life: is it to search for the piece of infinite aspirations on behalf of life, or to temporarily abandon the blurred landscape in the distance, and to choose a high branch to stand there, to view the ambitions of life, to nurture the song of life?

As the seasons shift, those landscapes are faintly lost in the seasons that have passed. That unknown lightness, as if still to be in a green shade of strife, pending the wind to bury her.

The tree is a thousand feet high, the leaves fall to their roots. The eternity and transience of the landscape, the interpretation of the end, and the brewing of the beginning. In the way from the beginning to the end, she used a thick accumulation, breeding a song of life, telling the ancient eternal and illusionary change.

......

So there is the song of memories, the marks of the years ......