This is a poem by the poet Zhang Zao: This is the tenth month of my love, my time married to a shadow, I took a bite of the fresh peach I picked.
I went straight through the tenth month, and I didn't eat that fresh peach, but I liked the phrase "my time married a shadow". It catered to my mood at the moment, pinpointed the position of my heart, and hit it with one hit.
At this moment, I am sitting by the fire in my hometown, holding a teacup in one hand and a literary journal from many years ago in the other. Even I was surprised, how long had this scene not appeared? It's been about twenty years. Twenty years ago, as an avid lover of poetry, I used to move my desk to the fire in the winter and write poetry day and night, ignoring the sky falling.
I don't know if I'm reliving that scene or reconnecting that mood.
"My time married a shadow." Just like the best piece of coal in the furnace, shining with blue flames, it jumps out at this moment, it should have its own meaning. This is what I have searched for most of my life, and if I finally find it, it can be regarded as a break for my literary and artistic complex.
It is more like the lament of a resentful woman, and most of her life is wasted, and only a shadow reply is obtained.
Or life is an illusory journey, this time, in the canyon of time, I made an exception and took a roller coaster backwards to find a young shadow -
How good it is to be young, the age of acne on the face, and the grass of love on the heart. Any time you lose love, it will make your soul fly for tens of thousands of seconds, and then continue to grow unscathed. This is youth, ordinary and tense days are like brilliant fireworks that spread out, and the flowers are small sorrows between the eyebrows. When a small handkerchief was lost, the girl panicked, thinking that the secret of the dream had also been leaked out with the handkerchief; a spy was captured by the girl she liked, the teenager's face was red and hot, and his heart was pounding, but he turned his back to the wind and begged for forgiveness: "Wind, only you know my bottom line, please, don't say it." ”
At that time, the sky was very low and blue, like a big gong that no one knocked, and you shouted violently, as if you could break it. And the stars in the night, forever young, always innocent, never growing even at the age of one.
A little further back to the younger age, to the younger age, and there are countless joys and worries. Never worried about anything, the future is still so long, waiting to carry slippers and wearing pajamas to play with many beautiful bubbles on the face; waiting to hum a small tune on the way to school; waiting to tiptoe to reach a sparkling leaf; waiting to follow a puppy in shoes and learn to walk awkwardly; waiting to quickly eliminate a bag of jelly before the teacher arrives; waiting for the thought of a red bicycle; waiting for the attachment to a guitar Wait to open the slips of paper wrapped in sweet silk, and solemnly say to your mother, "Can I fall in love?"
Happiness is at your fingertips, like ripe cherries. So much waiting, like a variety of goods on the shelves, waiting to be picked at will.
Time passed like flowing water, so we called the calendar that was torn off one by one as the flowing year.
In this way, while lamenting the passage of time, we can't wait to see what kind of fruit has borne on the tree of time.
The fruit of my tree is a loving heart.
I am happy because I have gained love in poverty. Take out the old porcelain bowls, which are as clean as ever, and have well-preserved grain and love. I said to my lover, stay, such a good day needs us to taste well.
I miss it because I hugged the friendship empty-handed. Even when the song ends, thank God for keeping us together when the melody is at its best. I told my friends that remembering, like forgetting, is the best gift for each other.
I pray for the good guys and pray for their peace in life; I pray for a puppy passing by me that its tail will always sway with joy; I pray even in the autumn winds for the happiness of the crops that rise and fall with the wind.
And now, the ones I should pray for most are my father and mother. My mother had been busy all afternoon and finally got a table of meals. Every time I came back, it was a day for my father and mother, and they were eager to spend their life savings on me.
More than once I saw before my eyes a sight of twilight years: the once young daughter-in-law, an old woman with a bent back, dressed in gray clothes that were no longer glamorous, under the gray sky, picking up broken branches, preparing to make a warm fire.
Next to the flames, there was her thin shadow, and if she could put that shadow together, it would be only the size of Yingying's hand. Isn't that my mother? All her time, she married such a shadow, busy, worried about the shadow of a lifetime!
My father called me, do you want to drink a cup? That's what I mean. I proposed that my father move the table to the fire, and my father smiled and said, "You, for so many years, have always liked the fire so much."
Yes, it is through this warm shadow that I have walked through most of my life safely and unharmed!
In a slight drunkenness, I looked at my father's shadow, and my father was also looking at my shadow, and together we looked at the shadow of the years.