in the Book of Odes, Spring Essays
The mist of is misty.
The mist of , the white frost is on the dew.
Tracing the stream back, the road is long and difficult. Flowing along, it is just in the middle of the water.
The spring wind of the Western Zhou Dynasty is gone forever.
Although the feelings of the ancients can still remain in later generations, singing a song that has been through ten thousand years, yet it can still be tender and fresh.
This song may be temporarily silent, but it will never terminate.
Do the same minds and dreams exist in the hearts of those who have been separated by the passing of time and the separation of hearts? I don't know. But in the long, harmonious melody that has been sung and wafted for many years, I felt my own voice, in the vast universe and vast expanse of time, perhaps only this harmonious melody is eternal!
Tonight, the crescent moon is like an eyebrow, the stars are full, it feels very cold, I quietly leaned by the window to watch the moon, without song or dream.
But this is just a moment of tranquility, what I cannot give up on is still in the ancient melody, adding my own lyrics.
When the mist of is misty, where is he/she?
Between countless springs and autumns, my song is just like a light mist, drifting and dissipating.
The purple azaleas are a flower, a flower that can make one...
'I have come to cherish him/her from the beginning, but the flowers are not returned to my eyes,'The flowers of azaleas.Poetry by Yuan Zhen of the Tang Dynasty, the azaleas are actually the cuckoo flower. I like this poem and this flower.
I still remember the ending of the poem:
'The flowers are gradually darkening, the moon is gradually brightening, the moon shines on the empty mountain, the mountain is green, the moon is at night, there is no one to see me, where can I find someone who knows my beauty?'
I want to say, it's just this meaning, perhaps to express the feeling of not being favored in this life, also know the result is just an empty sound echoing in my heart. However, I truly am the purple azalea, or not, it's also good, at least Yuan Nine was not lonely when crossing the mountains, and he was beautiful in the eyes of poets and admired by countless people, I have always been without anything.
But I have no hatred and no resentment, everyone can only have one destiny and life. Since I know that I cannot change it, I don't want to change it anymore. How it came is how I accept it. Although I yearn for that night, that moon, but if I cannot have that opportunity, why bother to seek it!
So I can only record the songs that I have had.
I don't know if this can sing out the glory of the flowers in those springs, only know that all flowers only open in their own seasons.
The east wind makes one intoxicated, but I am gradually losing my dreams. Spring returns, I cannot go with it; spring returns, I am separated by time.
Where to find the lost feelings? Who will say to me, 'Snow flies and falls, dispelling my sorrow when I wake up in the morning?'
If the sun must set, it is a necessity.
If the sun does not rise with hope in the east wind, it is a sorrow.
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