#白露#
turned around and watched Xia Yun go, and looked back to see Bai Lusheng again.
Yingying white dew, dyed ten miles of pampas leaves, dripping through the white jade stone steps, flashing with a thousand years of unchanged light.
On the poems of the season, there is the beauty of the moon flowing in the sky, and there is also the sorrow of white dew.
A ray of moonlight, a piece of melancholy, endless lovesickness;
A drop of white dew, a roll of desolation, an old dream that can't get out.
01
When the autumn grass is born in the white dew, the brothers of the old garden are lovesick.
There is nothing to do all day long, and there is a poem on the banana leaves.
——Wei Yingwu "Idle Brothers"
Autumn is getting stronger, and the grass and trees in the courtyard look more bleak and cold under the rendering of dew.
Looking at the lonely autumn scenery in the courtyard, feeling the slightest chill in the air, the longing for distant relatives became more and more intense.
Sitting alone in the study, surrounded by silence.
There is no earthly hustle and bustle, no cumbersome affairs, and the thoughts in my heart are surging like a tide.
Pick up the pen and write down your thoughts and emotions on the wide and yellowish leaves of the plantain.
Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, it is another year of white dew.
The wind and dew are cold, the leaves are slightly cool, the wild geese come, and the birds return.
How much verdant dew is thin, how much prosperity shakes down with the wind.
Are you okay tonight in your hometown?
02
The wind and rain in the plain are fixed, and the geese are frequent in the evening.
Deciduous trees, cold lights and lonely nights.
The empty garden is white and dewy, and the lonely wall is a wild monk.
Lying in the suburbs for a long time, what year to this body.
——Ma Dai "Autumn Residence on the Ba"
After autumn, the drizzle continued, and today the wind finally stopped.
In the evening, standing on the plain, looking at the geese flying frequently in the air, I remembered my hometown in the distance.
Fallen leaves leave the branches in the autumn wind.
They were in the air, dancing lightly, spinning, and finally landing silently on the ground.
The night was getting darker, the chill was blowing, and the only thing that accompanied him was the dim oil lamp.
The white dew dripped quietly, making a slight sound, which was particularly clear in this empty garden.
In this remote and desolate suburb, there was only one wild monk who was next to him.
In the dead of night, I can't help but ask myself: when and what month can I end this wandering life and find my true home?
Xiao Xiao Bailu, cutting the cool breeze, took away the enthusiasm and prosperity of summer, and also brought the coldness and longing of autumn.
The autumn colors in the withering, the dust of time, and the sorrow of the season.
Time is gradually thickening, and the thoughts are becoming more and more intense.
03
The jade step is white dew, and the night invades Luo socks for a long time.
But under the crystal curtain, looking at the autumn moon.
——Li Bai "Jade Ladder Resentment"
On autumn nights, the steps made of jade are covered with dewdrops.
Alone, standing quietly on the jade steps.
I don't know how long it took, and a chill swept through the slightly wet socks.
As if she couldn't stand the chill any longer, she went back indoors and lowered the curtains.
The curtain was crystal clear and a little cold, just like her state of mind at the moment, lonely and cold.
Through the curtain, looking at the bright moon in the sky, it was bright and bright, with a kind of unattainable coldness.
In the eyes of many people, Li Bai is arrogant, "Dapeng rises with the wind one day and soars to 90,000 miles";
is domineering, "kill one person in ten steps, and don't stay for a thousand miles".
In fact, he also has a graceful and delicate side.
Just like this song "Jade Ladder Resentment", by describing the white dew and bright moon on the autumn night, it creates an extremely hazy and cold atmosphere.
The whole poem does not have a single word of "resentment", but it portrays the woman's resentment very well, and the so-called "not a word is full of romance" is like this.
The first-order autumn dew, whose thoughts have dissipated?
A curtain of moonlight, whose waiting is desolate?
Lean on a note of text, and a curtain of pillow to clear your sorrows.
Half-fingered lovesickness is endless, and a good dream is difficult to continue.
-END-
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