About autumn, some people will be obsessed with its color
Some people will miss its temperature, someone will trigger a philosophy
autumn
It is also an aesthetic artistic conception condensed in the depths of the Chinese soul
0ne [ Blank ]
If you say that the summer sky is suitable for painting a watercolor
Then the autumn sky is a perfect frame of rice paper
or still
Or smart
It turns out that it is not the talent of a calligrapher and painter who makes it a masterpiece
Instead, the spirit that jumped on the branch fell into the deep ethereal spirit
How can you write a verse like that?
The mountain light is pleasant to birds, and the shadow of the pond is empty
Moss is full of steps, and white birds are late
This is the silence unique to life, but it is also the unique hilarity!
If you haven't actually walked into autumn
Never tasted the years like a stream like a terrifying wave like a low wandering like a sparkling light
How can you appreciate its loneliness and rejoice in its silence
With blanks?
Two [ Freehand ]
Antelope hangs its horns, there is no trace to be sought...
Such as the sound of the air, the color of the picture, the moon in the water, the image in the mirror
Words are exhaustive and meaningless - Liu Gongwen carved the righteousness of the dragon in his heart
Only when you look up at the sky can you appreciate his profundity and vividness
The world chases after the many, and coats love the less
Just like the surprise, it mostly happened in the inadvertent encounter
Red has become a cinnabar mole that precipitates in the heart
Yellow is the white moonlight that haunts the window of memory
sometimes
It's another stretch of longing to arrive
Earnestly in the "old Maodian Community Forest Edge, Road Tock Creek Bridge Suddenly Seen"
Stretching in the thought of "dew from tonight white, the moon is the hometown of Ming"
What can be said and what can not be said?
Eventually you will find out
There is a lot to say, but there is no need to say anything
For it is there, the heart is there
Three [ Intercourse ]
Cicadas on the eighth day, ephemerals in the twenty-fourth hour
And the leaves of late autumn, warm and silent, gorgeous and dusty
Because it is moving, it is eternally attached to love
Coming and going, high and low, up and down
Intense or light, close or sparse
On the contrary, they are the same; slowly, or fast!
The psalmist says: Go to the end of the water, and sit and watch the clouds rise
Are you talking about cause and effect?
The poet also said: But go to Mo fu to ask, when the white clouds are endless
Is it saying that the gathering is indefinite but indefinite?
Well, let's let's let go
Walk into the blankness and fullness, loneliness and eagerness of this autumn
You can think of nothing
Anything can be remembered