Thousands of mountain birds flew away, and thousands of people disappeared.
Lonely boat, fishing alone in the snow of the Cold River.
Childhood, adolescence, youth, prime-age, old age, each stage of life, influenced by knowledge and experience, see things that are naturally different. It's like the snacks we ate as children, the funny things we played, the landscapes we turned over, and many years later, we will experience the aftertaste, which is not satisfactory. It is not that the old mountain has changed its new face, and the old things have changed its taste, but that our hearts have gone from knowing nothing to becoming clearer. Too often, with a heart to drink, to taste the taste of tea, lingering in the heart can only be strong and bitter.
I had this feeling a long time ago, but I really understood it and read Liu Zongyuan's "Jiang Xue" again. It was a late autumn morning, I was walking on the way to work, the light rain was sparse, the cool breeze was strong, and I sighed that time was like rain, and the years were faltering. Inadvertently, I went from the mountains and forests where I learned to learn to become a family. From the previous poem, the tranquility and tranquility that he thought was within reach of his reach became a distant horizon. Especially after understanding the background of Liu Zongyuan's writing of this poem and the state of mind at that time, a sense of powerlessness suddenly emerged. For a moment, I felt very tired, didn't want to move again, and couldn't find a little motivation to move forward. I thought to myself, how good it would be if life stopped at this moment, so that I would no longer have to feel lonely for the goal that I could not reach for a long time.
Green mountains fall, twilight clouds rise, autumn breezes, maple leaves full of long streets, where to find people? Lotus flowers scattered, chrysanthemums blooming, late wind and autumn rain, lonely shadows standing neon, where to go? People will have such a moment, obviously their hearts are dead as ashes, but they still turn over the mountains, wade through the deep water, and come to tomorrow. No one knows what kind of thoughts he had at that time, he had walked through the darkest moments of his life, and why he did not stop there, the wind and clouds were clear, and the smoke was gone.
Perhaps, I am really no longer young, less arbitrary capital, or perhaps, it is the red dust of this road that has taken away the clear sound of yunshui in my heart. In short, reading this song "Jiang Xue" again, in addition to the quiet and tranquility of youth, it is also more difficult to live. But no matter what kind of setbacks life encounters, how the mood changes, the way forward, always have to go on, and the favorite poems cannot be said to be left behind.
Before, I laughed at Cangyang Gyatso, laughed at Sumanshu, and laughed at their dilemmas and struggles on the road of love and seeking Buddha. On the one hand, he is obsessed with love, and on the other hand, he does not forget the Buddha's ding-dong. Now I understand that the person who is under siege is actually me. My dreams and wasted time are even more confused and despondent than their passions.
There is no trace of birds in a thousand mountains, and no trace of people in the thousands of paths. On the vast river, there is only a lonely boat, a fisherman with a cloak, fishing lonely in the vast snow. It's a quiet picture, so quiet that people can't help but want to abandon the life of the city, pack their bags, and go to find a deserted mountain to see a scattered winter snow. It is better to board a lonely boat, moored in the river, fishing with a fishing rod in hand, watching for a lifetime, rather than returning, and continuing this hurried footstep.
But the people who write poetry have the opposite idea of me. He would rather abandon the picturesque landscape and abandon the lonely boat to fish, but also return to the prosperous Chang'an, continue his political career, ask for the life of Li Min, and fight for the Jiangshan.
He was born in the Liu clan of Hedong, a famous family of men and nobles, and his ancestors were mostly officials in the dynasty. Growing up in Chang'an since childhood, he saw the corruption and incompetence of the imperial court and social turmoil, and he had the heart to serve the country. The turbulent court gave him the opportunity to shatter his faith and hope. From one dynasty to another, every generation of emperors is replaced, and someone will always come and someone will go. Few people can be trusted for a long time under the change of the emperor, and they will not move in the wind and rain.
This poem was written during Liu Zongyuan's stay in Yongzhou, away from the whirlpool of the imperial court. For ten years, he could have loved the landscape, been a fisherman who did not ask about the world, boarded a boat to fish, enjoyed the river snow alone, and enjoyed himself with the thatched huts and the qingxi pine forest every day. But he did not, and under the influence of his ancestors and what he had seen since childhood, he was bent on returning to Chang'an and continuing his political ideals. He firmly believed that if he returned to the political center, he would definitely be able to eliminate the traitors, clarify Uchi, and restore a peaceful and prosperous world to the people of the world. Throughout history, no matter which dynasty or generation, it is precisely with such a noble man that those years of smoke and smoke and the people's unhappiness make people respect and remember.
Then, when we read the cold and lonely picture in the poem, should we also ask more about the poet's beliefs and ideas, and contribute more to the world. Even if you don't have the ability to influence others and change the world, at least be yourself, don't add burden to anyone, and let them carry the weight forward. Since you have come to this world and walked into the fireworks and red dust, you should live out the colors of life, do a good job of orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, and after the wind and rain, they will merge into a rainbow of seven colors, and do not ask why they disappear.
Tonight the night is dark, but I see the moonlight in my heart, and among the crooked scythes, there are quiet mountains and forests, vast cold rivers, and a lonely boat moored on the river, and the old man with a cloak and a bucket, fishing alone. No longer have to care whether there are traces of birds within a thousand mountains, whether there are traces of people in the ten thousand paths, and there are people flowing under the floating, and the traffic is busy. The beauty of poetry lies in this, you can say that it is lonely and cold, you can also say that it is bright and gentle, the same mood, different angles, we can always experience different poetry rhymes.
Life is like poetry, and the angle you intend to determine the good or bad of this life, but we can't choose to give up because of a mistake. I thought that even at the last moment of death, it was worth finding a good subject, a good angle, and slowly composing a song.
Text/Idle Flowers