Author: Bend
2020, passing suddenly;
2021, as scheduled.
At the end of every year and the beginning of the year, every person who is wandering outside always has a few feelings, or is happy or sad. The joy is that there is a period of return, and the sorrow is the mixed feelings.
The end of the year means that the day of returning home for the New Year is getting closer and closer, and the mood of looking forward to returning is always overflowing in the hearts of the wanderers.
In ancient times, transportation and communication were not developed, many poets lived abroad for a long time, and they could only quietly place the feelings of longing for them by borrowing poems and lyricism.
A rustic sound, a handful of dirt, a touch of acacia, a sense of sorrow. Throughout the ages, homesickness has always been common. The ancients would bid farewell to their parents when they traveled far, and would be displaced when the war was turbulent. Today's people will travel thousands of miles when they study and work hard, and when they migrate to other places, they will bid farewell to their homeland.
However, no matter what the reason for running away from home, for the wanderer who is away, the most intimate thing is always everything related to the hometown. Only because nostalgia is always the refuge of the soul.
Nostalgia for the homeland, common to all human beings
When we go out, home is the starting point, we return, and home is the end. The beginning and the end carry all our attachments. This attachment is a common and eternal emotion of human beings.
The years are long, thousands of miles apart, and nostalgia has always been a fiery passion that lingers in our hearts. For thousands of years, everyone has been immersed in it.
Li Yi said: I don't know where to blow the reed pipe, and I will look at the countryside overnight.
Zhang Zhi said: Seeing the autumn wind in Luoyang City, I want to write a book with great meaning.
Yang Huizhi said: Looking back at the ancient mountains thousands of miles away, don't say to whom?
Fan Zhongyan said: A cup of turbid wine is a thousand miles, and Yan Ran has not returned to the house.
The cycle of seasons, the change of years, and the unique life experience in each season make nostalgia appear thick and touching.
The nostalgia of spring is: the spring breeze and the south bank of the Green River, when will the bright moon shine on me.
The nostalgia of summer is: hometown remote, when to go? The family lives in Wumen, and has long been a Chang'an brigade. May fisherman reminiscences? Xiao Yu light boat, dreaming into Furong Pu.
The nostalgia of autumn is: the sun sets in the west, and the people who break the intestines are at the end of the world.
The nostalgia of winter is: the wind is more, the snow is more, the dream of the homesickness is not successful, and the old garden has no such sound.
All scenery is love language. The existence of wind objects touches the hidden pain in the depths of the soul.
The cooking smoke rose, and Lu You said: "The village of Wulu is red, and the fishing house is wet with cooking smoke after the rain." ”
When the geese came, Wei Yingwu said, "Where is the old garden?" Gui Si Fang is leisurely. On the rainy night of autumn in Huainan, Gao Zhai smelled the geese coming. ”
The yellow leaves drifted, and Xu Zaisi said: "A sound of sycamore leaves and a sound of autumn, a little banana and a little sorrow." ”
As the sun set, Li Qian said: "People say that the sunset is the end of the world, and they can't see home at the end of the world." ”
Sijia has always been the strongest emotion in the world. If there is a ship offshore, then there must be someone returning home.
At the end of another year, have you packed your bags and are ready to go home?
Homesickness, can not avoid Li Bai
When we were children, we began to contact the poems with the theme of homesickness from Li Bai's "Quiet Night Thoughts", and initially realized the long-term connotation of "looking up at the bright moon and looking down at the hometown".
When Li Bai traveled far away, bid farewell to his hometown, and went to Jingmen Ferry, he saw Hirano and Dajiang, and wrote "Farewell to Jingmen":
Cross the far outside the Jingmen Gate and come to travel from the Chu Kingdom.
Yamayoi Plains Exhaustion, Enoi Daira Stream.
The flying mirror under the moon, yunsheng jiehai building.
Still pity the hometown water, send the boat for thousands of miles.
Although he felt that the scenery here was very good, he still gave his deepest love to the landscape of his hometown when he lifted his pen.
In 734 AD, he was at the Luoyang Inn in the Eastern Capital, late at night, tossing and turning, when he overheard a few intermittent flutes, and wrote "Spring Night Luoyang Flute":
Whose jade flute flew darkly and scattered into the spring breeze full of Los Angeles.
In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and who does not remember the old garden.
During the Tang Tianbao period, Li Bai moved to Donglu, and after traveling to the great rivers and mountains of Donglu and tasting the wine of Lanling, he composed the poem "Guest in the Middle":
Lanling wine tulips, jade bowls filled with amber light.
But so that the master can get drunk, do not know where is the other country.
Slightly drunk, is Lanling's fine wine too mellow, so that the wine immortals will make other places their hometowns.
Li Bai drifted through most of China, writing homesick poems moving and touching. However, he did not think that a separation from his hometown when he was young was a lifetime.
You must know that when he is dying of old age, he can once again set foot on the familiar land of his hometown and chant a sentence of "the young man leaves home and returns to the old man, and the hometown voice does not change the sideburns", how can this not make people envious.
Dashing like Li Bai, he has never only brewed the thoughts of thick ink in the wine and pinned it on the moon.
Perhaps for Li Bai, what can't go back is called hometown. He has been fluttering for thirty years, most of his life has passed, his life is floating, and people are like floating ping, but a sentimental sentence: "Sigh I swim for thousands of miles, flutter thirty springs."
"Floating clouds and wandering, sunset and old feelings." Regardless of whether Li Bai's hometown cannot go back or not, in short, his homesickness is full of poetry, which is not a fortunate thing for the world!
Later, when we grew up and left our hometown like Li Bai, we deeply experienced the true taste of homesickness. At that moment, we kind of understood Li Bai.
It turns out that only when people leave their hometown, they will have the concept of "hometown" and will have a dense homesickness.
The return date is indefinite, and the sorrow is even stronger
Year after year, thousands of homes are lit up, people are one year older, and nostalgia will be more intense.
After a whole year of running and toiling, who does not want to return to their hometown, to the place where they have been attached all their lives.
However, in ancient times, when the mountains were high and the road was far away, even on the night of Chinese New Year's Eve, many poets did not return home, but stayed away from their families and lived in guest houses.
The first is the Tang Dynasty poet Dai Shulun, the traveler who chanted "pedestrians think of infinite autumn winds, across the water and green mountains like hometown". In his later years, he served as a resident of Shiyi in Fuzhou (present-day Jiangxi).
Chinese New Year's Eve night, the poet looked at the lights outside, but he stayed alone in the miserable inn, and could not help but be sad, writing "Except for the Overnight Stay in Stone Station":
Who asks in the hotel, the cold light is amiable.
The year will come to an end, and no one will return.
Little sad about the past, laughing at this body.
Sad and fading sideburns, tomorrow is spring again.
Why is it that everyone else gathers together, he only has a bitter smile and bitterness. What about you? Have you ever had a time to drink alone and never return?
The second is Gao Shi, who is also out on the Chinese New Year's Eve night, and also stays in the hotel alone with the cold lights, and sighs "Except for the Night":
The hotel is cold and sleepless, and the guest's heart turns miserable.
Hometown tonight thinking of thousands of miles, frost sideburns Ming Dynasty another year.
The cold lights are only shadows, the poet is slow to sleep, how can he not think of a family reunion, a happy and harmonious scene of the old age?
What is missing to the extreme? It is clear that he is thinking of his relatives at home, but he says that his relatives in his hometown must be missing himself thousands of miles away tonight.
Therefore, Bai Juyi, who lives in the Handan Inn during the Winter Solstice Festival, also said that "if you want to sit at home late at night, you should also talk about distant pedestrians."
Have you ever been unable to go home except for the night, and have you ever had that extreme helplessness, loss and loneliness?
Then there is Cui Tu of the Tang Dynasty, who has been living in the Xiang and Shu areas for a long time, and one night, because he fled Bashu to avoid chaos, he wrote a poem "Removing the Night/ The Book of Removing the Night in the Bashan Road" during his journey:
Passing the three bus roads, the body is in danger.
Chaotic mountains and snowy nights, lonely candles and strangers.
Gradually, he became distant from the flesh and bones, and turned to the servant relatives.
That kan is drifting, and tomorrow is new.
Another wanderer from a foreign land who could not return at night, he was getting farther and farther away from his hometown, and the road he trekked was rough and difficult. The poet is alone and alone, unaccompanied, and the thought of one more year of age tomorrow makes him feel very sad.
Why shouldn't we, our faces are easy to grow old, our years are easy to grow, and after a long time outside, there will always be a moment when we will be tired of wandering like poets.
Different poets, the same Chinese New Year's Eve night sojourn feelings. Wang Wei said: "Alone in a foreign land as a stranger, every festive season to think of relatives. "If you are in a foreign country, you can better appreciate the rich longing in the poem.
As Shu Chengkun wrote the lyrics, Liu Yizhen sang in the song "Hometown":
Whose piano sound echoes on the wandering road
The rich nostalgia was already soaking through the eyes
Looking back at their distant hometowns year after year
Fill this glass of wine at this moment without saying that you are departed
The year is approaching, whether you have blocked the return journey for some reason, you can only miss it from afar. Are your tears flowing in the land of dreams?
At the end of the year, the hometown is quiet at night
The year is from the end of the year, and the night is the quiet of the hometown. At the end of the year, the heart of the wanderer Sijia added a little more urgency, because the time of reunion was coming soon.
In 1746 (the eleventh year of Qianlong), the Qing Dynasty poet Jiang Shiquan rushed home on the eve of the end of the year, deeply felt his mother's concern for himself, and wrote a simple and affectionate poem "The Twilight of the Year Arrives Home":
The heart of the beloved son is endless, and the return home is happy and tasty.
The needle and thread of the cold clothes are dense, and the ink marks of the home letter are new.
Meet pity thin, Hu'er asked bitterly.
Humble and ashamed of the son of man, do not dare to sigh the wind and dust.
As a child, no matter how hard it is to drift outside, no matter how much suffering it suffers, it never only reports good news to the mother and never reports sorrow.
Because there is an old saying: "Parents are here, not far away." "Since we have willfully chosen to travel far, how can we bear to let our aging parents worry more?"
On the way back to our hometown, we often look forward and remember the scene when we left home to say goodbye to our mother, and the poem "Farewell to the Old Mother" by Huang Jingren in the Qing Dynasty depicts this tearful scene:
Pray to the mother river beam, white hair sad to see tears withered eyes.
On the night of the tragic firewood, it is better to have a son than nothing.
When the poet participated in the examination for raising people, he failed many times, and had no choice but to leave his old mother and go to other places to earn a living.
Yes, most of the time, if it is not forced by life, who does not want to be closer to home and do more filial piety for the mother?
We spend most of our time separating, thinking about it, but we leave very little time for getting together. How can one not be ashamed of this?
Every year during the Spring Festival, the annual population flow will be staged as scheduled, so people are willing to work hard and tirelessly, and find ways to return to their hometowns for the New Year.
No matter how important things are, no matter how far away the distance, returning home for the New Year is always a wanderer's unforgettable thoughts and beliefs. Only for a long goodbye reunion, only for a sweet reunion.
The family gathered together happily, talked about the wine, said goodbye to the old and welcomed the new, filled with a cup of happy wine, and told the thoughts of a year.
However, after spending a short Spring Festival at home, the vast majority of people will embark on the road away from home again, once again in the eyes of their parents to go far away.
Is this an unchangeable fate, or a stubborn and stubborn yearning? We don't know.
Long goodbye reunion, smell old dreams again
Last winter, we were separated from home, and today the snow fell for another year.
Last winter, I waved goodbye to my hometown, and this winter the snow fell again, and the year passed like a fly.
Cold and summer, autumn harvest and winter hiding. When we tear off the old calendar and replace it with a new calendar, when the joy of the festival sounds, the flavor of the year becomes stronger, and the wanderer walks on the road of a foreign land, as if he can hear the call of his hometown.
Wherever people go, they are always a passer-by, and only when they embark on the road back to their hometowns, he is a returnee.
The wheel of time is rolling towards the end of the year, no matter how far it goes, how high it flies. In the near future, the wanderers will follow the army of the Spring Festival, across thousands of mountains and rivers, to the origin of life.
The heart has a return date, and does not forget the way forward. The heart is as warm as ever.
Travel thousands of miles, the nostalgia does not change. Cross the mountains and rivers and never forget the way back.
-Author-
Bending, willing to use heavy paper, light as a pen, writing flowing years.