Looking West at Cuiwei
I have been living under the mountain for half a year, and I am intoxicated with the lake and mountains every day.. I only moved here in late autumn last year. Every day I saw two Lao Song plants standing on the red maple leaf island. In the Pingbo Yanfang Lake, there were stone boats floating as if they were swaying.. When the moon is bright like water, I stand on the boat. The floating shadow in the water reflects the crystal of my eyes. The pine and cypress under the moon are like fairy couples.. Or before sunrise, look at the illusion of grey clouds. Soon a bright red sun was smiling behind the tower. At that time, looking back at the mountain light, it was like Fragrant Concubine after bathing.. The happiest thing for me was last winter, when I went to Devon at 7 o'clock in the morning every day, so that I could get up and run around the lake one or two times at night when the wind was blowing against my face, and then walk along the road of the classroom, facing the western hills..
Ha, if I mention the Western Hills, it really reminds me of them and also calls me hope.. Whenever I am down and out (although I am down and out all the time), I think of my western hills. Therefore, how many times do I have to watch it every day in inside? However, if I watch it ten million times, its posture will be different ten million times.! Xishan is like a beautiful woman, who is not fit to imitate it. She is like a beautiful diva, snowy, snowy, red sun morning, cool breeze day, sandy afternoon, hazy dusk, windy night, foggy day, and the changing Spring Cloud, the continuous autumn rain in inside, or the distant army in grand and heroic, the silent memory of the temple clock, the sad time of running water under the bridge . and the sleepless midnight when you wake up in your dream, you can visit her at any time. She smiles at any time, simper, wry smile, sad face, angry face, strong face, or she is totally buried in poverty..
I believe, this is not accidental? On her smiling face, I saw the sad face accumulated for thousands of years.. I believe that under this vast expanse of stone, there must be a lot of sadness and resentment under pressure. all this sadness and resentment, your great western mountain, can neither wail to the pale sea nor complain to the blue sky. only when you watch the seasons are playing, you just have a wry smile.. Since I came here, I have enjoyed many changes in the western hills. I planned to write a poem every day and practice writing scenes, but I have failed in the end. now I have barely written six poems..
One day, it was just a dusk, and the snow was as thin as ashes from the tomb, falling one after another on the mountainside.. Like a mourning woman, in the dark and clear inside, she cried under the miserable cloud.. The mountain peaks seemed to faint from grief in a pale patch.. Ah, paleness, thick frost all over the ground after the autumn wind, the grass was never so pale. The cypress trees in old silver suffered many bitter winds and rains and died in the mountains. They were not so pale. The inside in the wilderness cried all night long. No one mourned the decayed bones. They were not so pale. When a beautiful woman suddenly heard this paleness, like the sound of silence, the sound of jingling, the sound of lazy Wooden fish, and the sound of the night bell every once in a while, the heart of the fallen man turned over again.. I watched the lonely tower on Wanshou Mountain.. This withered tower is now a Silver Towers, a penitent tower, a tower full of old memories, new worries and old hatreds.. I wish this tower could be wiped out. I wish it could be wiped out in endless pale inside and unspeakable pain in inside.. But it is even paler, like The Lips, a dead body, who was red before death and white after death.!
The next morning, it was clear, but the snow did not disappear.. The sudden onset of spring cold hit the eyes with cold ice.. I was walking towards the western mountain with my hands behind my back.. Looking up at the mountain, the snow has melted in one part, and the layers of grain are like weather-beaten old people, and like the remnants of raindrops..
Beautiful, and absolutely like a woman, dance back, leaning on the side of the bed, bead unlined upper garment, under the lights, shining bead string, the goose feather fan inclined on the white right arm. Ah, still a whore, a alme, a helpless ronin. After laughing, tears trickled down from her heart and became a stripe on the white powder.! No, if there were a group of white pigeons flying in the wild with yellow sand covering the sky, it might not be as beautiful as the western hills when the white snow was half dissolved..
This mess, like cups and plates on a Chinese banquet, this mess, like a remnant of a post-war base, this mess, this vast silent noise, like shouting and killing on the battlefield. Again, that tower, Bleach Soul Carnival after bathing in grey clouds, would be as miserable as it is? Like the beautiful woman's fingers, wiping away tears! Well, how many teardrop and tears have this finger played!
When I woke up from my dream, I didn't see her change again.. This time, why didn't you see it?? Here, there, there is a blur of smoke everywhere, flying out of the mountainside.. I have seen the heavy rain cloud rush out from behind the mountain, but there is such a slow, continuous, quiet silence.. I thought that the dense willow covered the bridge and there was no sun shadow in the light. In the small room, I only heard cicadas chirping, Buddhist scriptures chanting, and a incense burner. The smoke that swirled quietly was like the western hills at this time.. At this moment, I look forward to the other world, looking forward to the world of pain, also full of floating smoke, because, I look at there, like a hidden dragon, bend down for many years, once you want to take off the deep sorrow, soar up the sky. The whole mountain is swaying like clouds and smoke.. Only the tower, the tower full of worries and grievances, was motionless. If the cloud mountain flies away, the tower will still fall here.! Ah!! Oh, my God, this place is full of worries and resentment.!
The twilight is approaching..I feel at ease in everything.. The worker sucked at the end of the orchid and let out a sigh.. Well, life was originally a big dream that we couldn't wake up.! In the light blue sky, I saw the floating clouds changing completely, and the lake water reflected vaguely.. In the distant mountains, under a thin fog, the shallow western hills are covered. after the western hills, several pieces of wild clouds are set off by contrast.. At this time of year, it is a cloud or a mountain, and the distinction is not clear. There is only a vague one, the depth of one layer.. As far away as possible, the sky, clouds and mountains are indistinct.. Nearby, the pagoda is full of worries and sufferings, like death in a faint old memory, clearly clear! This piece, it is a pleasant dream. Lost youth, lost soul, lost joy, can only be traced in this piece of pale but wonderful dream.. Ah, dream is also afraid of not long, because this heavy night covers all dreams.. However, the frightening tower can still flash its white shadow in the dark..
This is the sad day by day in the past. This morning, pine needles seemed to turn green suddenly, and countless crepes sprang up in the lake.. A piece of purple morning dress, decorated with the day dance mask tears of alme. Narrow eyebrow, flashing a pair of small loose coquettish, she is just woke up from a good dream by the morning light, smile vortex, nature can be behind peek bitter, like thrush soft crow. This piece of red and purple is really the blushing of the little girl, because I heard her cry yesterday.. The black hair, the soft and white skin, the glaring eyes, the exquisite teeth, all of which have temporarily covered the sadness in her heart.. This sad tower, like a embroidered pillow, leans on her body.. You can only see the dazzling splendor of everything, but you can't see this tearful tower..
This night, the people were quiet, I went from noisy city 天狮娱乐 to desolate tomb passage.. Sudden as from the mother bosom soliton, secretly wailing cry. On this road, rows of ghostly branches, and see a spring bird. Only the wind like snow whines and moans.. As if all around are ghosts, blocking my way. I am tired from walking, can I take a rest?? But this wilderness, where is the hiding place? I fell on a bridge and bowed my head and sobbed.. However, when I looked up to pray for the right time, I suddenly saw the widow in black in the distant mountains, thinking of her husband. She recalled how sweet her husband's red lips were when they pressed tightly against her black hair.! At this time, it was the setting sun that held itself behind the distant mountains, as if it were the kindness of the day.. But, in a twinkling of an eye, the red sun has been depressed, only the western hills fainted in the boundless night inside!
Author's brief introduction: Jiao Juyin (1905-1975), author. He has prose poetry anthology "Crying at Night", "Alien Land" and novel anthology "Chongqing Serenade". (责任编辑：admin)