The moonlight sprinkled on the clouds and slowly melted the clouds like silver water. The stars are shining, the moon is smiling, and the night is very peaceful. Suddenly, I entered the lotus pond moonlight of Zhu Ziqing, letting the crystal light flow into my heart.
Originally named as China, Zhu Ziqing is an outstanding modern essayist and poet. I read this article…
“This is a secluded road. There are very few people walking during the day…” Reading, I feel as if I am immersed in the scenery, enjoying the moonlight of the lotus pond, flowing tenderness, the poles vibrating, and the strings in my heart are banging. Picturesque lotus pond moonlight, thoughts turn to the soft intestines, helpless feelings, hidden intentions, love lively, love group living—-of course, want everyone to live together; love calm, love to live alone—-in this Dissatisfied with reality, want to be free, and get away from the complex feelings that can’t be realized by reality. Of course, I want to live in “Xanadu… my heart is also fluctuating.”
Walking and walking, I saw the “Haw Pond”, as if I were the same as the author. I melted the pressure from the school into the lotus pond, and separated it. The lotus leaf is like a beautiful woman who has just turned out of the valley, and The wind sways… Moonlight, it is more attractive than the stars, and the sun is so swaying, just silently setting off the lotus, my heart, intoxicated…
Looking at it, the moonlight hid in the clouds, snoring, frog sounds, sounds in the ear, “Picking Lotus”, “Western Music” let the heart cool, helpless, this night, I have not slept, lotus pond The beautiful scenery of the moon makes me feel Zhu Ziqing’s praise for the moonlight of the lotus pond, but I feel that the author hates modern life. I can’t help but frown and hold the pen and the spirit of “white terror” to fight, I admire me. .
In the past, when I returned to my hometown, the smoke rose, and there was a touch of green cymbals over the village. The front and back of the house was filled with a scent of rice, wheat straw, and incense of firewood. People who had been tired for a day sat under the eaves and figured out tomorrow. The work, nowadays, urbanized minions do not invade into the village, the beauty of the village is like the paint on the murals, peeling off every day, and some simple things are slowly faded. No matter how confusing in modern life, it is still firmly in the depths of the earth…
I silently thought, slowly writing, looking for the true color of life… After all, it is a mirage, so I wrote a “Hollywood Moonlight” feeling…
