Chapter Nine| Chen Huifang: Great Cold

The author | Chen Huifang

1

The great cold is a solar term,

It is the last of the twenty-four solar terms,

It is the end of continuous reincarnation.

However, Dahan is becoming more and more like a person.

A person, in reincarnation, repeats the cycle.

From hot to cold, cold to hot, from birth to death.

A person, in superposition, in the loss,

In the update, in the metamorphosis.

A warm body,

It was completely cold.

2

Inevitable, accidental,

Filled with this sudden world.

Before the great cold, my loved ones,

Ordinary three sisters, gathered in ordinary hometown.

Much like a providence,

Much like a convention.

The next morning, the 99-year-old aunt and uncle left quietly,

Leaving behind the 96-year-old aunt and the 93-year-old mother.

Life and death, very simple,

Only one conversion is required.

Like the transition from the great cold to the spring.

3

At the age of fifty, I felt that old age was coming.

Now, it's really time for the flower nails.

The year of the flower armor is just a solar term,

But it's less flesh and blood,

But it is to look down on the thick and look at the depth to the shallow.

The aggregation is orderly, and the aggregation is disordered.

Years and years, from Spring to Great Cold,

Reincarnation is also like a whirlpool, sweeping away the people around you.

The father is gone, the mother-in-law is gone, the eldest brother is gone,

The Chu River is still flowing, the Wu River is still flowing,

My tears are still flowing.

The sadness of youth is not sadness.

The wind blows, and the white hair in the wind is like a reed flower.

4

Smog is with the epidemic.

People wearing masks are alive.

In the city, in the village,

Everyone has left a trace.

The mother picked up the crutch,

She said her feet were weak.

My mother was also a person who had gone far away.

It was five years ago, when her father had left her a support.

The crutches were polished and shiny, like dense eyes.

Five years ago, my mother held my father's hand.

Five years later, the mother held her father's fingerprints.

5

I haven't seen my grandparents,

Nor did I see My Grandparents.

When I arched out of the earth,

They are already buried in the soil.

Those codes of life,

Can only be passed in deep darkness.

All times, there is a big chill.

All living beings have a life.

Parents are like a pot of charcoal.

Father cooled down, and there was still residual warmth.

Mother was still burning.

I baked the back of my palm.

My blood, a collection of ancestral genealogies.

I put my arms around my mother.

This is my cover and my back cover.

6

the underground passages of the city,

Last year's big cold, the old man who pulled the erhu,

Gone.

A young man selling songs, standing in his place.

The little girl wearing a mask doesn't move.

On the worn-out cartons, scattered banknotes,

Like dried radish peel.

Distant lakes, closed waters,

Jumped out of the fat school of fish.

The harvest of the year is being counted.

Some in the pocket, some in the face,

Some inside the eyes, some in the throat.

I pulled on the purple scarf.

I'm not on the cusp of the waves, I'm on the cusp.

7

At the moment, the temperature is 7 degrees Celsius and the body feels 9 degrees Celsius.

Fog orange warning, haze yellow warning.

Remembering a squint of the sun,

I remembered a reflection on a snowy day.

Humans walking through tall buildings and smog,

Like looming punctuation.

These tenacious seedlings,

These tenacious species,

The threshold of the great cold is being crossed.

There was not a broom that cleared the sky.

Clear in my heart.

The flickering flames are invisible and must be preserved.

8

Chant the Quicksand River, Qingshan Bridge.

Bronzes that have not yet been unearthed,

Continue to be majestic.

A few years later, I only need my mother's crutch,

Tap the hometown of the Four Sheep Fangzun.

I turned the ticking of time into sporadic guidance.

All the crops will be stripped of their coarse cloth coats,

The original form is revealed.

The river rammed into the huge rocks without internal injuries.

Flying body, recovered in seconds.

The mountain green is too lonely, and the three more grab the dark green in the middle of the night,

Thrown at the next door neighbor.

9

The big cold is on track, and the avenue is facing the sky.

I walked on the road to Lichun.

Warm up, back to the sun, and pour spring cold.

Drop the branches and heads of the leaves,

With furry dreams.

In the new reincarnation, there is no precise calculation,

Archive life and death one by one.

Twenty-four solar terms and the zodiac,

It comes indisputablely.

Tiger, tiger, tiger,

The year of this life is also a life.

hush! Don't wake up things,

Let it continue to sleep.

Hibernating animals also have their own options.

If there is a spring thunder that wipes the ears of winter,

It was a sexually urgent chapter that wanted to be published in advance.

January 20, 2022