Chen Pengju: Drizzle Papers (Low Qihu Collection No. 3)

"Three Songs of Rain": "The guest land is warming up this evening, and the plum blossoms are full of dreams." In ancient spring, the clouds are floating with geese, and the new rain has been sacrificing fish. "Most is the tender and sunny reminiscence of Jun, a total of who drizzle fine papers." Spring trees are stacked in dreams, and the sun and twilight clouds flutter in the bottom of the heart. "Several times the news is separation, dreaming of the beginning of the clouds." The homeland has been the same as the custom, who will wash the spring rain poetry. ”

The rain festival sounds comfortable. I like drizzle weather, walking. If you walk along the Jing Pond and watch the new green sprouts out and down, the mood is excellent. The weather is also warming up. The children of Jiang Chun, the thin spring shirts, and the flowing water flooded with duck-headed green, are all signs that can be expected. The plum blossoms are almost in full bloom. This kind of flower always exists without distraction, enthusiastically opening up its heart. This kind of flower that transcends the world, seeing it, even if the flower branches are few and far away, even if it is a lonely branch, remains in the dream, the dream must be cold and innumerable, and the fragrance will not be dispersed.

Spring also has a very good name, called "ancient spring". This means that spring is ancient. The new spring in front of you can also be used as "ancient spring", and the chinese characters cannot be stopped. The clouds in the sky are clean and feel like geese can float at any time. In the bright and dangling rain, there were people fishing, and this fish was not vigilant, and it was not long before it was hooked. The anglers were also so amused that they lined up the fish like an otter sacrifice. The fish are enthusiastic. This situation has been seen in Yantan in previous years. Yan Ziling did not make a living from fishing, nor did he want to come to the anglers by the Jing Pond.

Such a tender spring day, remembering the past when I talked to you about words. I don't like to talk to writers about words, nor do I talk to painters about Danqing. I always feel that the people in the threshold do not know the internal affairs of the threshold. I like to talk to you about words, you are a very playful person, and you just happen not to write words. You are a rare text sill outsider. Your eyes are like spring rain, shining with clear light, very similar to words. Du Fu said that he was a spring tree and that Li Bai was a sunset cloud. Du Fu saw through Li Bai. Some people say that Li Bai seems to be unaware of this. I don't know, is Li Bai unaware? Sheng Tang belonged to Li Bai, not Du Fu. Sitting next to Li Bai, Du Fu didn't even have a sense of existence. It's just Li Bai, this heavenly immortal-like being, doesn't he notice that there is a volcano around him?

The earth was not very large, and if you walk around, it would be eighty thousand miles. Life is not long, and eighty thousand miles can still be completed. So parting is not a big deal. Especially today, no matter how far apart, it is possible to meet each other in an instant. The question is what is the distance of the mind. Far away, it is difficult to say. Even if you can meet it day and night, you feel like a stranger. I always remember the parting with you, but I feel that the picture is beautiful. The sky was blue that day, and the rain was blue. I saw a line of white clouds floating out of the distant mountains, like a goose line. You left Gangnam that day, in Jiangnan, where I live. Pictures of good friends separating, easy to remember. After that, this picture is there, and it is always available to dream.

Later, I learned that your ancestors were also Jiangnan people, and it was the last generation that went to the north, so you can be considered a northerner. The homeland is a knot that cannot be opened in a lifetime, and you and I are all. Just stay in the guest place for a long time, or the guest place? What is your hometown? Isn't the hometown the place where you can curl up and sleep comfortably, day and night? At present, you and I have this land, can we still say that we have left our hometown?

I don't want to say it, and I don't want to say it. I still think of the spring rain, which is really hanging on the eaves at the moment. This spring rain is still like your nagging about words. I thought, just this spring rain, wash my words. Whether it's prose, or poetry. When words, when poetry, are no longer commented on as stylistic styles, perhaps its good times will appear. (Chen Pengju)