Original author: Yun Pei| Inner Mongolia Alxa League
prose
The sound of the piano through the snowy night
It's snowing.
The snowflakes under the street lamps are like willow feathers fluttering lightly and soundly, landing silently.
The night had long since enveloped the town, and the sky was still glowing orange in the distance. The neighborhood is quiet, only the sound of the feet.
Looking over the gray partition wall of the next community, I suddenly remembered the sound of the piano in the next neighborhood, stopped and thought about it, as if I hadn't heard it for some time, and my heart was actually a little empty.
The violin player in the next neighborhood had never met, and the violin player did not know that there was a listener who had never met in the partition wall. Who is the violinist? Is it okay? Why haven't you played the piano for a long time? Is the multitude of affairs delaying the playing of the violin? Or did you go to the south for the winter, where the seasons are like spring?
The first time I heard the piano in the neighborhood next door was also a quiet, snowy winter night. It's not too late, it's more than seven o'clock in the evening, but it's this time in the middle of winter, and it's dark. Drive the car, slowly drive into the community, get out of the car, lock the door, and walk towards the unit building. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the melody of Qingyang came, listening carefully to discern, it was the sound of the accordion, smelling and looking for it, the sound of the piano came from the Zhonghang community across the wall. The sound of the piano drifted from the partition wall of the community, dancing and flying with snowflakes, breaking the silence of this snowy night. Instead of going upstairs immediately, I stood under the street lamp and listened to the sound of the piano. Snowflakes silently fell on the hair on the face and landed on the ground, feeling so beautiful.
After playing there, I often heard this piano sound consciously or unconsciously, to be precise, I was attracted by this piano sound. Every few days, at seven or eight o'clock in the evening, the red sun in the west, painted the sky with wisps of lonely orange, and the piano in the next neighborhood sounded. Pull is not very skilled, and even occasionally a little toe, like the rhythm of a baby toddler, not beautiful, but also pleasant, a board, a decent. After a long time, I wondered what kind of person the violinist was. Is it a woman or a man? Is it young or middle-aged? Amateur or professional? Men and women cannot judge, but judging by the style, they should be an elder; in terms of proficiency, they should be an amateur. "On the Golden Mountain of Beijing", "Ao Bao Meets", "Return from Shooting Targets", "My Motherland and Me", "Beautiful Grassland My Home", "The Rising and Falling Sun of the Grassland", etc., over and over again, these popular classic red songs or grassland songs, with the mark of the times, listen to more, you can roughly guess the preferences and ages of the violinists.
So I imagined a picture: the violinist sat upright, lightly pressing the black and white keys, holding his hand, and the sound of the piano should come out. Like flowing water, like blue sky, like grassland, like autumn wind. Sometimes soothing, sometimes cheerful, beating notes, folded wind pages and full of emotions, let the sound of the piano pass: the high flag flutters in the heart, the lyrical field flutters in the heart of the freedom, and the endless grassland... Time flows silently, and the seasons are constantly moving their feet. On the other side of the wall is the music of black and white keys, and on this side of the wall, it is an empty mood like my clouds and flowing water.
In those days, when I was idle after dinner, I heard the accordion slowly sounding, so I deliberately opened the window and let the sound of the piano drift into the home, and I was accompanied by the sound of the piano, boiling tea, idly reading, long music, accompanied by the fragrance of mist tea, spreading without gaps, relaxing freely; or simply doing nothing, just standing by the window, quietly being a listener, less impatient, more calm, unloading the busyness and exhaustion of the day in pure music.
Every time you play the piano for about an hour, the sound of the piano ends, and it never bothers the neighbors to rest. Often, the piano stops, the sound of the piano still floats in the air, and I still empty my mind. When you are still unfinished, you will look forward to the sound of the piano at dusk.
So, I guessed that this must be a literate person, that is, an ordinary old lady or old man, gray hair, wearing a pair of reading glasses, deep and shallow wrinkles at the corners of the eyes, showing the traces of age, after retirement, he teased his grandchildren, served flowers, trimmed bonsai, leisurely and comfortable, and most liked to pick up the accordion that he liked for a lifetime. When the accordion is placed on the chest for a moment, it looks radiant, slowly unfolding the folded wind pages on the accordion, the sound of the piano from jerky to gradually smooth, pulling and pushing and leaning up, elegantly playing the beloved song, intoxicated, always with a calm smile on the face. Only because of love, pure intentions, not mixed with fame and fortune, enriching life, enriching days, expressing the enthusiasm of the beautiful heart of life, adding icing on the cake for retirement time, so that this town has more warmth.
Hurriedly, tonight, it was another quiet night of drifting snow, but I did not hear the familiar sound of the piano.
Standing in the snow, I don't know if the familiar accordion sound will come out again, over and over again, one song, the piano sound is clean, and the heart is clear. In the melodious sound of the piano, my heart runs through the valleys and grasslands, rivers and seas, fields and heavenly domes, history and reality... Go to the vast distance and the long past.
Tonight, snow drifting, quiet.
make
he who
simple
seashell
Yun Pei, real name Zhao Fenhua, is a medical worker and a member of the Hanhai Garden Reading Club. Every time you have leisure, enjoy the scenery, and concentrate, and indulge. Even shin pen smear, to express nostalgia, to practice.