01
Lu Xun
The rain in the warm country has never changed into a cold hard brilliant snowflake. Knowledgeable people think he is monotonous, and he himself thinks he is unfortunate. The snow in Jiangnan is so moist and beautiful; it is the news of youth that is still looming, and it is the skin of a very strong virgin. There are blood-red baozhu camellias in the snowy fields, single-petal plum blossoms in white and hidden green, wax plum blossoms with dark yellow chimes; and cold green weeds under the snow. Butterflies don't; i don't really remember whether bees come to pick honey from camellias and plum blossoms. But I saw winter flowers blooming in the snowy fields, and there were many bees flying busily, and I could hear them buzzing.
The children were frozen red, like purple bud ginger-like small hands, seven or eight together to shape the snow Arhat. Because of the lack of success, whose father also came to help. The arhat was much taller than the children, although it was only a bunch of small and large, and finally it was impossible to tell whether it was a pot or an arhat, but it was very white, very bright, bonded with its own moisture, and the whole sparkled. The children made eyeballs for him with longan nuclei, and stole rouge from their mother's fat powder to apply to their lips. This time it was indeed a great arhat. He sat in the snow with his eyes burning red.
A few more children came to visit him the next day; clapped their hands at him, nodded, and giggled. But he finally sat alone. The sunny days came to dissolve his skin again, the cold night made him freeze into an opaque crystal form; the continuous sunny days made him unaware of what it was, and the rouge on his mouth faded.
But after the snowflakes of Shuofang flew, they were always like powder, like sand, and they never adhered, and they were scattered on the house, on the ground, on the dry grass, and so on. The snow on the house has long been digested, because the fire in the house is warm. Otherwise, under a sunny day, the whirlwind suddenly came, and it flew vigorously, shining brilliantly in the daylight, like a fog containing flames, rotating and rising, filling space, making space spin and rise and flicker.
In the boundless wilderness, under the cold sky, the spirit of the rain swirled and rose...
Yes, it was lonely snow, it was dead rain, it was the spirit of rain.
———— Lu Xun's "Snow"
02
Uddhav
When you think of rain, you must think of snow: "If you want snow in the evening, can you drink a cup of nothing?" Nature is the snow scene of the sunset in Gangnam. "Hansha Meiying Road, Weixue Wine Fragrant Village", then the three friends of the winter supper of Xueyuemei, meet together, and flirt with the wine girl. "Dogs bark in Chaimen Village, and the wind and snow return to the people" is the scene after the snowy night in Jiangnan, and the people are deeper. "In the deep snow of the former tree, a branch opened last night" It was the next morning, and the village boy who liked to make snow like a dog came to report the village scene.
The poet's verses may not be written in Jiangnan, and the poet who makes these poems may not be all Jiangnan people, but is it not straightforward to fake these poems to describe the snowy scenery in Jiangnan, which is much more beautiful than the prose written by my stupid pen?
—— Yu Dafu, "Winter Scene of Jiangnan"
03
Lao She
The best part is a little snow.
Look, the dwarf pines on the mountain are getting greener and blacker, and the tips of the trees are covered with a bun of white flowers, like Japanese caretakers. The tip of the mountain was completely white, and a silver edge was set on the blue sky. On the slopes of the mountains, where the snow is thicker, and where the grass is still exposed; in this way, one white, one dark yellow, put on a flower coat with a water pattern for the mountains; looking at it, this flower coat seems to be blown by the wind, so that you want to see a little more beautiful mountain skin. When it was almost sunset, the yellowish sunlight slanted on the mountainside, and the thin snow seemed to suddenly hurt the shame, slightly revealing a little pink. It's a little snow, Jinan can't stand the snow, those hills are too beautiful!
——Lao She, "Winter in Jinan"
04
Maupassant
At dusk, the snow that had fallen for a day finally began to fall. The vast world under the heavy night seemed to be frozen, and all life had quietly entered the dreamland. Near or far away valleys, flat rivers, woods, villages... In the light of the snow, it is wrapped in silver and is particularly enchanting. On this night of the first light after the snow, everything was silent and lifeless. In the field, a terrible cry came from afar, breaking through the silence of this cold night. The cry, like a cry, like a complaint, like anger, sounds creepy! Oh, the old dog, who was banished by his master, wailing at the fence in the former village: is he lamenting his own life, or is he confiding in the widowhood of mankind? The endless wilderness was flat, curled up under the pressure of the snow, as if he was reluctant to even struggle. The grass everywhere, the butterflies that hurriedly came and went, were now hidden without a trace, only the hundred-year-old trees, still stretching out the bald branches of the maple teeth, like ghost shadows, and like the white bone Forest, adding a little sadness and desolation to the night after the snow.
- Maupassant, "Snowy Night"
05
Su tong
Winter is mixed around the time of heavy snow, or just before and after heavy snowfall, Jiangnan folk proverb says that the dirty winter solstice is clean, saying that it is willing to sacrifice a winter solstice, but also a clean spring festival without rain and snow. People's demands are often met by Tiangong, I remember that the streets of the winter solstice are always muddy, Jiangnan people regard the winter solstice as a festival, every family wants to drink some Oriental wine, eat some yokan, and do not know where it comes from. Once I carried a bottle of wine to the grocery store to play Oriental wine, smelled the wine is really fragrant, so I secretly drank a few sips on the road, and when I returned home, my ears were red, and the back of my cotton coat was splashed with mud from the house, and I was reprimanded by my mother fiercely. Now I don't remember whether my mother scolded me for the wine in my mouth or scolded me for not making the new cotton clothes so dirty, anyway, I felt wronged, I went into the room and sat on the bed, and unconsciously the wine came up, and I actually fell asleep on the bed.
Everyone says gangnam is good, but no one says that winter in Gangnam is good. My feelings about the temperature of the season are always very mediocre, and I hope that one day the climate here will be like Kunming in Yunnan, and the four seasons will be like spring. I don't like winter, but when I remembered one winter in the past, walking on the way to school with my neck shrunk, I suddenly heard the sound of silk strings coming from the tea house on our street, I walked over and saw the steaming heat behind the window glass, a group of elderly men sitting behind the greasy tea table, each holding a cup of hot tea, easily listening to a man and a woman's commentary, it didn't look cold at all, I thought, these old guys, they are enjoying themselves, and now I still remember the warm scenes in this winter. I think if I spend the winter like this, winter is a bit interesting.
—— Su Tong, "About Winter"
06
Liang Shiqiu
A snowflake contains countless crystals, and a crystal has many, many faces, each of which reflects light, so that the snow is noticeably so white. When I was young, I heard that there was a story of cooking snow and tea in the past, and when I was curious, I went to the courtyard to pick up a layer of the surface of the newly fallen snow, put it in the koshiki to melt into water, boiled it, walked seven steps, used a small Yixing pot, brewed a big red robe, poured it into a small tea cup, sipped it carefully, lifted the dried cup and sniffed the nose three or two times - I did not feel that the two armpits were angry at all, but I felt that the tongue was idle. I examined the remaining snow water as if it were necessary to hit it with alum! Air pollution, snow can not maintain its innocence. One year, I was on the road to serve, the car broke down on the way, it was snowing heavily, there was no shop in front of the village, I was hungry, but I bought food in the grass shed on the side of the road, and the master fed me to hang noodles, and I was overjoyed. But there was no water to cook the noodles, and the owner took the washbasin and scooped the snow beside the road to the chaotic snow water below. Although it is easy for the hungry to eat, such a clear soup noodle is not easy to swallow. Since then, I have felt that I can only look at the snow from a distance, and I can't play with it. Su Wu was hungry for felt and thirsty for snow, which was another matter.
The loveliness of snow lies in its widespread earth, covering everything and making no difference. Winter night hugging and sleeping, feeling cold attacking people, curled up and dare not move, open your eyelids in the early morning, there is a strong light shining in the gap between the window curtains, get up and push the window to see ,—— ah! A silver world of white. Bamboo branches and pine leaves are topped with piles of snow, and old trees with budding trees are also inlaid with silver edges. Zhu Men and PengHu suffered the same from it, and there was no difference between the carved fence jade and the urn Sangshu. The potholes on the ground, the dead branches on the ice, and the debris on the road were all covered under a crane thrown by Tiangong. Snow is such a selflessness, decorating beautiful things, but also covering up all the impurities, although it can not be hidden for too long.
——Liang Shiqiu, "Snow"
07
Tagore
It's Sunday, and early in the morning I hear the sound of bells in the church. Get up and push open the window, oh, everything is white. The sloping roof of the building opens its heart to welcome the snow: Come on, cover me with plain yarn! The condensed snow river swept away the kingdom of road dust, turning into countless tributaries and flowing in all directions.
There was not a single leaf on the tree. Shiva seemed to be sitting in the treetops spreading crystal blessings. The dry grass on the side of the road is like the remnants of youth, which has not yet been covered, but it has slowly bowed its head and conceded defeat. The birds stopped chirping, and the sky was silent, and the snowflakes were flying, but they could not hear its footsteps.
While sleeping in a foreign country, the heavy door of the heavenly court quietly opened. But the angel will report the news and wake up the sleeping man. "Tranquility" left the heavenly realm's lonely Daoist courtyard and did not ride on the flying car; the imperial hand did not wave the whip of lightning and roared and whipped the mad pegasus. She stretched her white wings and hung down gently, her movements so light, her posture so graceful. Don't hit anyone, don't clash with anyone.
The sun is set behind the snow curtain. The sky is not dazzling at all. The whole world shines with soft light, covered with a mask of tranquility, wetness, soft light.
In the quiet of the winter morning, I welcomed the cleansing of the snow that I saluted into my spiritual house. I sincerely pray: Slowly cover all my worries, imaginations, and work! You have crossed the boundless darkness of the night and silently resided in my life forever! Oh, in the unpolluted purity, awaken me to a new dawn, leaving no stains; and inject the eternal sanctity of the glory of heaven into the heavens and the earth in which I live!
- Tagore's Collected Works of Essays
08
Chekhov
Twilight is dim.
Large patches of wet snow drifted lazily around the freshly lit street lamps, falling on the roof, on the horse's back, on the shoulders, on the hat, and accumulated into a soft and thin layer. The coachman, Jonah Potapov, was covered in snow white, like a ghost. He sat in the chauffeur's seat, motionless, leaning forward to reach the fullest extent the living man's body could. Even if a snow pile fell on him, it was as if he felt that he did not have to shake off the snow on his body... His pony was also white and did not move. Its gimmick posture, its skinny frame, its straight legs like a stick make it resemble the kind of horse-shaped honey biscuit you can buy for a Goby. It's mostly thinking about it. Whoever it is, as long as someone is pulled hard from the plough, from the familiar gray scenery, hard to throw here, thrown into this whirlpool full of strange lights, constant noise, bustling pedestrians, then he will not miss his heart...
- Chekhov, "Distress"
09
Yasunari Kawabata
It was a cold night scene, as if the sound of ice cracking could be heard deep in the entire frozen crust. There is no moon. Looking up, the sky is full of stars, and the number is unbelievable. The stars shone brightly, as if they were slowly falling down at an illusory speed. The stars moved closer and closer, pushing the night sky farther and farther away, and the night became deeper and deeper. The mountains at the county boundary were already layered, appearing even darker and heavier hanging from the edge of the starry sky. It's a chill. Quiet and harmonious atmosphere.
...
Shimamura looked at her and suddenly shrank his neck. The white flowers in the mirror were shining with snow. In the snow in the mirror appeared the woman's flushed cheeks. It is an indescribable purity of beauty.
Maybe the sun was rising in the east, and the snow in the mirror was becoming more and more dazzling, like a burning flame. The woman's hair floating on the snow also shone with purple light, adding a dark color.
Probably to avoid snow, a small ditch was dug along the wall of the inn to divert the hot water from the bath to the gate and merge into a shallow pool. A stout black Akita dog crouched on a stepping stone there, licking the hot water for a long time. Rows of passenger skis were drying at the door, freshly moved out of the storeroom, and with a slight musty smell. This musty smell is also diluted by the vapor. Even the snow that fell from the branches of the fir trees melted and deformed when it encountered heat on the roof of the public bath.
The woman looked down from the window of the inn on the hill over the pre-dawn ramp. In some time, from the end of the year to the first month, the ramp will be buried by a snowstorm. At that time, snow pants (a kind of pants worn outside the kimono in winter) were required to attend the banquet. Long rubber boots, but also have to wear a cape, wear a turban. At that time, the snow will be thick. Shimamura is now descending this ramp. However, from under the diapers hanging high on the side of the road, he could see the mountains of the county, and the snow above was shining brightly, which seemed particularly clear. The green onions have not yet been buried in the snow.
Children in the village are skiing in the fields.
As soon as I walked into the village street, I heard the gentle dripping sound of water dripping from the eaves.
INTERVIEWER KAWABATA Yasunari, Snow Country
10
Chi Zi Jian
I still remember the day on the second day of the first lunar month in 2002, when my lover and I were invited to our brother's house in the west of the city to dinner, we did not take a car from the city, but went up the embankment and walked around the town. It was snowing that day, and the snowy weather was usually warmer, as if the snowflakes had resisted the cold current with its weak body. There wasn't a single pedestrian on the embankment, just the two of us, arm in arm, walking wordlessly through the snow. The mountains looked vague in the snow, and the river under the embankment had disappeared, covered in thick ice and snow. The willow trees and poplars on the banks of the river look shadowy in the snow, and the sky and the earth look so vast and so kind. As I walked, I suddenly shed tears, knowing that it was not auspicious to shed tears in the New Year, but I could not sustain myself, and such an unparalleled beauty bred my sadness. Three months later, my lover left me, and when I returned to my hometown in the winter of that year, I was the only one walking on the snowy embankment. At that time, I suddenly understood why there were tears that day, because heaven and earth were hinting at me that the beautiful emotions would leave you, and you would be surrounded by this eternal desolation forever!
Fortunately, the green mountains and flowing water are still there, the river willows and poplars are still there, the bright moon is still there, my eyes and soul have a place to live, and my pen is also the most emotional touch. So I still like to walk at dusk, like to watch the sunset in the water, like to see the leaves falling in the wind, like to see the mountains in the snow. I am not afraid of old age, because I would like the moonlight to merge with my hair when the green silk turns white. Let the moonlight not be able to tell whether it is moonlight or white hair; let me not distinguish whether it is white hair or moonlight that grows on my head.
One night a few days ago, I had a dream about heavy snow. I came alone to a place of snow, full of houses, but not a single pedestrian on the road could be seen, only snowflakes rolling in the air. Snowflakes slapped my face, so cool, so moist, so kind. When I woke up, it was a dark night outside the window, and I recalled that during the year, no matter what the season, I had to dream about snowflakes, even if the window was full of birds and flowers. It seems that what surrounds me is destined to be a cool and sad, romantic and cold world. My heart was moved, and I was eager to write a line on a blank piece of paper. I reached for the bedside lamp, but it didn't turn on, presumably there was a power outage at night. I opened my phone, took advantage of its faint light, grabbed a pen, wrote the words on a typewriter that best expressed my thoughts and emotions, and then went back to bed and continued my dream.
The sentence is: My world is snowing.
Yes, it's snowing in my world...
——Chi Zijian, "My World Is Snowing"
Note: The graphic originates from the Internet, and the copyright belongs to the original author.