Real World, 2011, May 28, Niuhua Town, Sunny, Morning. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

It was a Saturday and there were no classes.

Yu Wenhao got up early, finished the breakfast made by his grandmother, because he didn't have pocket money to surf the Internet, so he sat on his small bed, looked at the clear sky outside the window, watched the sun rise in the sky, and the warm sunlight fell on the window glass, revealing colorful light.

Although it is almost summer now, it is slowly getting hot, but at this time, in Yu Wenhao's place, a trace of cool wind blows makes him feel a warm and comfortable feeling.

With nothing to do, Yu Wenhao took the somewhat thick "Collection of Ancient Poems" from the pillow and prepared to read it.

I don't know if it's a coincidence, he opened it at random, and he turned to the first poem of Tao Yuanming's "Returning to the Garden" series, a famous pastoral poet in the Wei and Jin dynasties.

"There is no vulgar rhyme, and sex loves hills and mountains. fell into the dust net by mistake and went for thirty years. The birds love the old forest, and the pond fish thinks about the old place. Open up the wilderness in the south and return to the garden. There are more than ten acres of square houses and eight or nine thatched houses. The elm willow shades the back eaves, and the peach and plum Luo Hall are in front of the hall. Ambiguous and distant village, smoke in the ruins. The dog barks in the deep alley, and the rooster cries in the mulberry tree. There is no dust in the courtyard, and there is spare time in the empty room. After being in the cage for a long time, you can return to nature. ”

Looking at the poems of Tao Yuanming written on the page, muttering and reciting, Yu Wenhao had a feeling in his heart that today, he should be able to write a poem. Although it is not as good as Tao Yuanming, it also represents a feeling buried in his heart.

"When I was young, I knew that I was not suitable to stay in this vulgar world, and my nature was to love the green mountains and the people who flowed water."

"But I never thought that I had strayed into this earthly net, and it had been so many years since I took a nap."

"Like the caged but unruly bird, thinking of its mountains and forests, like the fish trapped in the small pool, thinking of its deep abyss like the sea, I am destined to not stay in this world for long, and will eventually return to the silent mountains and forests."

"A little barren hill to the south has been reclaimed to guard the only pastoral dwelling place in my heart."

"Now, in this barren mountain, I also have more than ten acres of land and eight or nine thatched houses."

"My little thatched hut is now shaded by elms and willows in the back, and peach and plum trees in front."

"On some dim evenings, I can still see the village in the distance, and see the smoke rising from the village."

"Occasionally, I can hear three or two barking dogs, as if watching the owner drive the chickens back to the chicken coop, and make the chickens run around."

"I have a simple thatched hut here, but it is clean and tidy, and there are spare houses, just waiting for someone to live in it and add a little vitality."

"Staying in this complicated world, in fact, what I yearn for in my heart is still such a leisurely, tranquil, natural pastoral life, that is what I am pursuing in my heart."

Whispering Tao Yuanming's poem "Returning to the Garden and Pastoral Home", Yu Wenhao read it while translating some of the emotions he could feel from this poem into the current vernacular according to his own understanding, with a newborn calf who is not afraid of tigers, although it is not very correct, but who can be sure that Yu Wenhao's translation is wrong.

And when Yu Wenhao was translating the poem according to his own understanding, on the side, the demon with the illusory figure floating here was also thoughtful.

"Actually, my favorite is Tao Yuanming's "Drinking"."

Yu Wenhao looked at another Tao Yuanming poem on the page, muttered, and then, with learning and understanding in his eyes, looked at this poem.

"The knot is in the human realm, and there is no noise of cars and horses. How can you ask you? The heart is far away from itself. Picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, leisurely see the South Mountain. The mountain weather is good, and the birds are returning. There is a true meaning in this, and I have forgotten to distinguish it. ”

After reading this poem, Yu Wenhao looked at the pages of the book blankly, his eyes were a little distracted, as if he was sucked into the scene depicted in this poem, and in his mind, involuntarily, the picture formed by his understanding of this poem in his heart appeared.

The heart demon is comfortable here, and he also has curiosity in his eyes, looking at the picture that slowly emerged in Yu Wenhao's mind.

Living in a house in the world, without the noise of the world, everything is quiet.

At this time, someone asked, why can you do this?

That's because, although I am in this complicated world, my heart is filled with that lofty and lofty ambition, and I am naturally not affected by these worldliness.

That is, in the fence courtyard outside my house, in my leisure time, picking my favorite chrysanthemums, raising my head, inadvertently, you can see the looming corner of Zhongnan Mountain, with the setting sun, accompanied by the faint mist rising in the mountain, in the swirling, you can hear the birds in the sky, accompanied by the cheerful chirping of the companion returning.

In the midst of this, it is peaceful, it is joyful, and it makes people want to sleep here for a long time, and I originally wanted to share it with you, but I have wandered in this beautiful thing, so that I do not know how to say it, how to talk about it.

Everything, just let it be.

When Yu Wenhao came back to his senses from the fantasy picture, he suddenly felt as if he was talking to Tao Yuanming just now, listening, watching, and feeling, but he didn't know how to describe the scene just now.

Yu Wenhao smiled.

This smile is self-deprecation? Is it a response? What else is it, Yu Wenhao doesn't know anymore, he, forgot.

The heart demon is comfortable here, and it is the same, the corners of his mouth lifted a smile, a shallow, indistinguishable smile.

"The only person in the world who is idle, and the hidden pottery of the South Mountain. Drunk to see the clouds cover the sun, the nightingale only then appears in the breeze. ”

Muttering, it seemed that a poem had been written, Yu Wenhao quickly got up and opened his schoolbag, took out paper and pen, and recorded the poem he had just unconsciously muttered.

Looking at the poems he wrote, Yu Wenhao was a little embarrassed for a while.

"The poem is written, but what should I call it?"

Just when Yu Wenhao was worried here, the demons on the side were comfortable here, and a black light lit up slightly on his body, as if turning into silk threads, connecting Yu Wenhao's body and connecting each other, and then, a strange scene appeared.

I saw that Yu Wenhao's body shook slightly, and his expression was stunned, and a picture appeared in his mind.

In this picture, a man with a blurred figure is standing in front of a portrait, and this portrait is very clear.

The portrait is simple, drawing a woman in white.

This woman, with a graceful posture, smiling eyebrows and eyes, and white clothes like a fairy, at first glance, gives people a feeling that she is not like the people here, as if she is a person who does not eat fireworks in the world.

The undulating corners of the clothes, surrounded by a trace of white gas, add a touch of dust.

"What is this?" Yu Wenhao looked at this portrait and muttered suspiciously.

Just when Yu Wenhao muttered suspiciously, as if he was affected by something, in the portrait, the fairy-like woman in white who came out of the dust glanced at Yu Wenhao at this time.

At this glance, Yu Wenhao's heart seemed to resound through the sky, roared through the mountains, and erupted into a sea of fire, trembling.

"You...... You ......"

"The concubine is not here, the concubine dies first, and he is not a ruthless immortal, but he is looking at each other from afar."

A faint murmur came out of the mouth of the woman in white, softly, slowly, and spit it out.

After the woman in white said this, the entire portrait suddenly burst into flames, burning the portrait and the woman in white like a fairy.

"No!"

Yu Wenhao here, at the moment when he saw the portrait being burned, his heart suddenly trembled, his heart was like a knife, his heart was burned by fire, his heart was struck by lightning, and it is difficult to describe what his heart was like at this moment, trembling, severe pain.

Yu Wenhao only had time to shout the word 'no', and at the moment when his heart ached and trembled, his mind and consciousness were directly pulled out by a strong pulling force and returned to his body.

Yu Wenhao, who opened his eyes suddenly, came back to his senses, took a few breaths, stabilized his breath, his back, sweat dripped, and on his forehead, cold sweat also dripped down, slid across his face, dripped down, and fell on the small bed.

"What happened just now?" Muttering puzzled, Yu Wenhao looked left and right, didn't see anything strange, carefully recalled the painting he saw just now, Yu Wenhao's expression was inexplicable, puzzled, and afraid.

The heart demon is comfortable here, and the silk thread that connects him and Yu Wenhao was also withdrawn when Yu Wenhao came back to his senses and returned to the heart demon comfortably, and his face, at this moment, was as pale as paper.

"What you see is exactly what I saw when I was born consciousness, what you saw, what you felt, and what I felt at that time."

The demon comfortably watched Yu Wenhao recover, and muttered to himself.

Yu Wenhao, who was slowly recovering, frowned, as if thinking about something.

Soon, a look of joy appeared on his face.

"There it is."

But he sighed that although the red dust was thousands, it was only in the repetition of human affection. But the Pope will not say again, my fate is up to me. ”

Yu Wenhao whispered in his mouth, picked up the pen in his hand, wrote the scene just now into a poem, and recorded it.

After writing it, Yu Wenhao was also a little unclear, but he felt that it should be written like this.

"The only person in the world who is idle, and the hidden pottery of the South Mountain. Drunk to see the clouds cover the sun, the nightingale only then appears in the breeze. ”

But he sighed that although the red dust was thousands, it was only in the repetition of human affection. But the Pope will not say again, my fate is up to me. ”

"Today is good, I wrote two songs."

Looking at it, muttering two poems written on the paper, Yu Wenhao showed a satisfied look.

"However, I don't know what to call these two poems, it's strange."

muttered, Yu Wenhao picked up the "Collection of Ancient Poems" and flipped through it.

Untitled.

Yu Wenhao turned to a poem "Untitled" written by Li Shangyin.

"Although the format is different, it is called untitled."

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