Laru's Bank of the Past, in front of the Jokhang Temple reminisces about the old tour. A camel bell sad strange road, three more moonlight cold nostalgia. 11111 "Untitled" • Poems / Zou Jishi
•01
Footsteps, always in the distance; chasing, not daring to pause. Life, there will always be dreams; detention, always teach guests to worry.
When the poems leave their hometown, a faint picture of ancient style always appears in their hearts. The picture may be a long pavilion to bid farewell, or a boat crossing the evening, or a lonely journey. A cloudy glass of wine can not resist the wind and frost of the forward, and the half-que song cannot comfort the unknown confusion. Where the eyes are locked, only under the longing, between the trepidation, the determination without hesitation.
In this world, there are too few people who are permeated with red dust and have a weak heart of fame and fortune, and who intend to end up in the mountains and wilderness. Throughout their lives, they have never left their homeland, and there are not many people who are "born in Si, grow up in Si, and old in Si". More often than not, they left their hometowns far or near, either becoming officials, or traveling to study, or defending the border of the country, or working as a businessman. Whether it is lofty ambitions or subsistence to support the family, the final teaching should leave the homeland, drift in the rivers and lakes, leave the hometown behind, and choose the wrong way alone.
Advance is also worrying, retreating is also worrying. The earthly world was like a tide, and finally had to look at those years coldly, dye the green silk into white hair, cool the ambition to stop the water, and crush the proud bone into a humble. Only the handful of rural soil at the bottom of the pocket still exudes the warmth and atmosphere of the hometown, accompanied by the wear and tear of the sun and the floating and sinking of the moon, accompanying the road.
What's the end of the day? There is no answer. But "homesickness" is like a shadow trailing, always in the dead of night, lurking in the sadness of the heart.
•02
Wave the cloud road from the far away geese, only teach acacia to dream. Alone in the end of the world, even if you are mixed with the spring breeze and the wind and water, you can't avoid dancing and singing, and leaning on the railing empty. Raise your head, bright moon; bow your head, hometown. No amount of fine wine can numb the pain of homesickness; no amount of mountain treasures can compare with the dishes of hometown.
The taste on the tip of the tongue in that memory, in fact, is a thousand ways, it is a thought of the homeland, the thought of the family.
Baqiao folded willows and raised cloud sails, and Yangguan wine was poured towards the Jade Gate. Between leaving home and homesickness, in the midst of this whirling around, chanting in the national style of the "Book of Poetry", chanting in the "Tang Poems" volume, the score is between the strings of the "Song Ci", and finally in the artistic conception of Ma Zhiyuan's "Tianjing Sha" "Dry Old Trees and Crows", let the slanting sun close to Li Shutong's "Farewell" "Outside the Long Pavilion, on the side of the ancient road, the grass is green and the sky", stirring the thoughts and hooking the heartstrings.
Is your hometown far away? Not far. Xu was on the other side of the invisible, smokey and rainy shore; Xu was at the other end of the mountains, the depths of the white clouds. The mountains and rivers are exotic, and the wind and moon are the same day. It's just that people are here, home is at that end, and thoughts are at the bottom of dreams.
•03
People travel, when middle-aged. Whenever I read Wen Tianxiang's poem "Crossing Zero Ding Yang" and "Floating in the Rain and Playing Ping", I always feel that the words are smashed in the heart, which makes people sigh endlessly.
Once young and crazy, not familiar with the world, always regard the problem as easy and simple, all difficulties are like itching, all the gaps are like a field canal. At that time, there were no worries about careers, worries about the future, and thoughts of wives and children, and I only considered affairs all day long, and my amateur life was fulfilling. I am very happy to invite several robes to the dormitory, sift a bowl of wine, and a plate of peanuts and rice, so that you can talk about the past and the present and speak freely. Time passes gently between cups and cups, without a trace.
Only after experiencing ups and downs, wandering in the wrong way, and struggling with setbacks can we comprehend the Buddhist zen of "nothingness in all things" in confusion. After all the glory faded, it was like a bean lamp on the case, gradually extinguished. All the desires that have been chased by all kinds of dangers will be shallowly laughed. Success or failure, but the dog floating clouds, will eventually disappear.
Returning home is the final outcome of every wanderer. After all, home is the warmest harbor, and homesickness is an inescapable heart.
•04
If no one leaves his hometown, he has no homesickness. However, leaving home is inevitable for most people, as Zheng Zhihua sang in the lyrics of "Sailor", people always leave the beauty to tomorrow, and the fantasy is placed in the distance. And driven by this kind of fantasy, they will embark on a journey of searching, putting aside the cautionary and constant words of "a thousand days at home, it is difficult to go out for a while", and like dandelion seeds, the end of the world is home, wandering at will.
Leave home. The lack of family care and the help of friends has too much unpredictability. Pain can only be chewed by oneself, loneliness can only be endured by oneself, and fate can only be borne by oneself. Even if you can't bear the pressure of life, and the tears flow to your heart, you still have to face the outside world and smile, and want to say goodbye.
Wandering, doomed to be displaced, wandering between urban and rural areas, with no fixed place to live. In this kind of time when you can go farther and fly higher, people will eventually be like kites, with a thread tightly tied to the heart field. One end is clutched by the hometown, and the other is drifting zero by oneself. The longer and longer you leave your hometown, the seed of "hometown" will quietly break through the shell and take root in the bottom of your heart, and one day it will make people sleepless and fall into the pain of homesickness.
"The near-homesickness is even more timid, and I dare not ask people." The verses of Song Zhiqing are basically what every returnee thinks, thinks, and does!
December 15, 2021 (Winter Month 12) • Lhasa