My beautiful nostalgia is crying

"My Beautiful Nostalgia" | text: Chen Yichun

"Sorrow is empty, daffodil fragrance is empty"

/01/

Our home is always on our hearts. From one river to another, from one river to the next river, the ancient ancestors traveled a long way to the East, built bird nests, opened up heaven and earth, drank blood, slashed and burned, and that little bird's nest was our home that had warmed for more than 5,000 years.

However, when you leave home, you will have a painful entanglement and thousands of years of wandering. The sea is vast, even if it is a leaf-like boat, it will be doomed to find no shore, and it will go to nothingness in this boundless distant vision, to the distant sorrows between the sea and the sky.

How great is nostalgia? The English poet Wordsworth said: "I roam alone like a cloud. It is the title of a poem written in 1804 and the state of mind of the poet and his sister when they encountered several daffodils by the water's edge in the park on their way back to Lake Grasmere two years earlier: "... I've never seen such a beautiful daffodil. They dotted with mossy rocks, some resting their heads on the rocks as if they were pillows to relieve their drowsiness; others swaying and dancing, as if the breeze on the lake made them laugh happily.

These daffodils look so joyful, dazzling, and varied..." The meaning of nostalgia becomes the poet's daffodil-like thoughts, although not bright, although not romantic, but leading us step by step to the highest place of loneliness. "Nostalgia is Narcissus", Wordsworth more than 200 years ago seems to tell us this, and it seems to imply that the reason why the daffodils in the poet's spiritual world can be fragrant to this day is because we do not understand the beauty, do not understand the daffodils, and even more do not understand the ethereal and ethereal sorrows of that year.

/02/

It is not difficult to understand that daffodils are the favorite of the British, all of which are planted in the wild in large areas, and every year in March and April, behind the front house, in the mountains and rivers, daffodils always bloom vigorously towards the warmest degree, and then bloom and wither. I admired such a fascinating gesture, and as far as daffodils were concerned, they were indeed beautiful and melancholy, as bright as the beautiful fairies, and the aristocratic spirit in them spread out on the earth and reached our hearts.

Think about it, if we grow old day by day, our daffodil complex does not disperse, if the fragrance of the daffodil becomes more and more pure, then is our nostalgia more and more sad? The so-called beautiful is always sad, and this sorrow, because of our thousands of years of wandering feelings, because of our other reading of daffodils, so later, the sorrow roamed, my heart was like water.

I often think of the ancient times in China, when the Book of Poetry was born, when our ancestors lived by the water and sang against the current, and their thoughts were pure, they did nothing, and there was a way to carry it, so there were such good stories as "the road is invisible" and "the good is like water". The breath of history always echoes inadvertently, one after another ancestors from the south to the north, and from the west to the east, the thousands of entanglements of the sense of wandering, probably an "empty" word. I think that the sky is empty, time is empty, sorrow is empty, daffodil fragrance is empty, everything is empty, and people will later be empty.

Empty, no end. It's like a man's nostalgia on the road, and as soon as he leaves, it is this life and this life, maybe he can't see it, maybe he sees it.

Image source network, invasion and deletion

author

Pen name: Chen Yichun. It makes people's hearts warm, the power of words is infinite, and I love words very much.

- END -

Feel free to leave a comment to write your thoughts on the article, or to say what the author wants to say!

Maybe you still like it