Text 丨Beilin passerby
Anchor 丨Ma li
The white clouds are the flowing skirts, and the mountains are the soul of the earth. A bright moon shines for a thousand years, and the rugged cliffs are dotted with green dots. Only this green, drunk time, drunk on the country and mountains infinitely...
A picture scroll, with a thousand years of ancient rhyme, slowly unfolds on a gorgeous stage, frozen in the picture scroll, full of mountains and mountains, layers of undulating, sparkling. The woman in the high bun and green clothes flicked the water sleeve in the picture scroll, slowly moved the lotus step, and raised her hand and threw her feet into a silky euphemism. The white-clad boy was on the shore independently, and in the picture scroll in his eyes was a fairy dancing in amazement, and the clouds rolled in the clouds.
The lonely and empty Jiangnan River North, the brown bottom, the blue mountains, and the thin twilight mist flow through the mountains. Who is it? Using spring water as ink and birds as pens, I paint this long mountain and a quiet deep valley. The rapids of the flying waterfalls, the boat pavilion bridge, the temple platform, the nomura fishing market, the exquisite painters, the hard lines, at this moment have become fantastic spirits.
This spirit is the soul of the mountain, the soul of the water, the soul of the wind, the soul of the moon, they dance in the picture, they sing softly on the stage; they twist their waists, they restore the bright colors in the picture; they restore the beauty of standing still, the beauty of looking at the moon, the beauty of dangerous peaks, the beauty of lying stones, and the beauty of fortitude, the beauty of weakness, the beauty of classicalness, the beauty of awe.
All beauty conveys the love of nature and man, and this love is integrated into a huge picture. The absolute beauty of the color, the absolute coldness, the vast rivers and rivers of smoke, the mountains of the green peaks, have been hidden on silk for a thousand years.
The mighty spring breeze brought peach blossom drizzle and a flat boat. The white-clad teenager, walking alone for thousands of years, across the distance of time and space, quietly gazed at the sails of this river and clear water, and the years supported by this time. There is no dusk, no morning glow, only green and thousand-year-old poetry, frozen in this long river and mountain.
The green mountains, the lake light, and the spring feeling blown by the breeze are the dancing mountain souls. Farther than the mountain is the towering sky, farther than the sky is the tide of time, farther than time is this solidified picture.
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