Fairy Tales of the Snow Country (Outer Part 2)
Text/Chen Zhen
It's snowing heavily again, and it's good that the years that have been around for a long time are now coming. We use pure hearts and childish feelings to shape the image of the snowman. That part of life was pure and pure and as fragrant as the winter sun.
Under the sun, in the oblique wind, invite friends to carry out a wholehearted and self-conscious labor: to shape a you and shape a me with the white special material of snow. Shape the vision in their minds, and then the purest and purest arrangement in the first row of the boyhood. Then this "you", this "me" was melted into another new snow.
On another snowy morning, under the morning of eight or nine o'clock, the red clothes were wrapped in plain clothes, which was particularly charming. We joyfully and innocently search for the "you, me" in our minds. When you look for me, we both suddenly wake up at the same time and in the same place: at this moment, there is already "I" in "you" and "you" in "I". You and I share the snow and synthesize a "Snow Country Fairy Tale".
Therefore, under the same sky, the same fragrant and warm snow country on the same black land, with a new artistic conception, new ideas and new techniques, we have combined a brand new snow sculpture to stand in the square of their empty hearts; the first monument in front of the gate of the years of the green plum bamboo horse; and the bottom layer of youth.
Unfortunately, when the warm spring came, the image of this snow could not withstand the test of sunlight, and disappeared into "nothing" as a large area of ice and snow melted into spring water; disappeared in the far-reaching place of memory. Since then, there have been some "me" in your memory, and there have been some "you" in my memory.
Then, we flew apart and went our separate ways. Hazy, busy looking for the golden key to life in their respective rivers and mountains, we ran into the first rainy season of life's youth...
Snow in the north of The Seychelles
I don't sing in my life, I only like to listen to songs. But one of my favorite songs, which I often chant in my heart, is "I Love You, Snow in the North of Sai." Sometimes, when I am in full heat, I also think of the cold snow, the snow in the north. Because you are the "snow of Saibei", a snow that once fell in front of my eyes and my heart fluttered and fell.
Ah, the snow in the north of the country, condensed and pure! Let the wind, let the dust, let all the dirty things in the world not dare to blaspheme, not even the blasphemous flashes of thoughts, and dare not have the snow in the north of The Seychelles. I had waited with all my life for the snow to melt, but the impatient result of the wait was ultimately hopelessness.
I wouldn't resent that snow. Because I understand that snow so well! So I could only freeze the snow of the north on my head and become white hair; and freeze in my heart into a holy thought that would never melt.
In this life and in the next life, you are the cold home of my heart.
Snowmelt days
As the sun grew warmer, the cold wind and snow as far as I could see turned into a trickle of spring. A new sprout of hope arched out of my heart, and the sun stretched out the attention and caress of the Dao Dao arm.
These snowmelt days are extraordinary, and every day is sacred as a festival. Good life makes me restless because of the impatience. Some philosophers warn that the days of snow melting are sometimes warm and cold, and "the most difficult to rest", which is really difficult for people to have palpitations. Riding the winter wind and snow, I was very tired. Embracing the love line of the sun, I sighed and sighed, and the early spring years followed with tears.
In order to fulfill my promise, I waited for the earth to be desolate and my original intention remained unchanged. On my watchful path, the first core bud has bloomed the delicate red of spring, and its delicate poet cannot describe it. That's the time I met you.
At this moment when the sun, with the needles of gold, acupuncture for the revival of the earth, I also let these beautiful love words melt into the black earth under my feet with the melting snow water of the spring light. Tomorrow my wait will be full of flowers all the way.
About the author: Chen Zhen, a rural teacher of the Fourth Son Wang Qiren, a member of the Inner Mongolia Writers Association, poetry, essays and novels are scattered in newspapers and periodicals inside and outside the region. Xinhua Publishing House published the collection of essays "Jushen Village Fu".