In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The outstanding feature of civil servants lies in official positions, not in literature. As a scholar, they are not satisfied in officialdom. However, things are strange. When the Hubei official's belt has already been scattered into mud, a poem occasionally drawn by a bamboo pen can actually engrave mountains and rivers, engrave people's hearts and never wander.

I once had the opportunity to look up at Bai Di City in the boat on the river at dusk, climb the Yellow Crane Tower in the thick autumn frost, and touch Hanshan Temple in the winter night. There are many people around me, and almost all of them are filled with poems that don't need to be quoted. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. They can recite these poems when they are young. The children's imagination is sincere and realistic. So these cities, these buildings, these temples are all built in their own hearts. When they are old, when they just realize that their feet are enough, they are also burdened with heavy debts and eagerly look forward to visiting the poetic realm. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable reasons. Sometimes, this longing is like looking for the lost hometown and visiting the lost relatives.

The magic of literati can turn such a small corner of the world into a hometown in everyone's heart. What magic is hidden in their faded blue shirts?

Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before I left, I asked the old man in the county where I lived, and the answer was:? It's a long way to Xiu Yuan, and there's nothing to see, but some scholars are trying to find it. ? The old man looked up at the sky and said, it will snow for a while, so don't suffer. ? I bowed to him and turned and got into the snow.

Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but Snow White, not even a wrinkle can be found. When traveling in other places, always find yourself a goal at each road section, staring at a tree and then staring at a stone. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even a dead leaf and a black spot. So, I have to look up at the sky. I have never seen such a complete sky, and it has not been swallowed up at all. The edges are quite scattered and the earth is tightly covered. There is a place where genius is called heaven. On such a day, the earth is called the earth. Walking alone in such a world, the dwarf becomes a giant. Walking alone in such a world, the giant has become a dwarf.

As a result, it cleared up, the wind stopped and the sun cleared up. I didn't expect the snow in the desert to melt so quickly. Just for an instant, the ground was full of sand, but there were no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated out on the horizon, stopped moving and deepened. I wondered for a long time before I found that it was a ridge that had just melted snow.

The bumps on the ground have become a shocking exposition, and there can only be one understanding: they are tombs of distant times.

It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These tombs were eroded by the wind and snow, and collapsed with age, thin and depressed. Obviously, no one has ever offered sacrifices to sweep them away. Why are there so many and arranged so closely? There can only be one understanding: this is an ancient battlefield.

I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the Central Plains has white hair, the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, and the children in Hunan cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that the deceased, such as husband, are facing the enemy lines in northern Shuobei; I believe that they really want to look back at the last minute and take a look at the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.

I wonder if this starry sand pile has been exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned over the documents page by page, so the land was buried layer by layer. A 25-year-old mountain, written on this wasteland, is quite glorious, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties and has long been responsible for defending the territory of China. So these sand piles are more comfortable to stand on, and these pages can rattle. Just like the dry, cold and monotonous land, the historical proposition of the northwest frontier is relatively simple. In the Central Plains, it is different. The mountains are heavy and the waters are complex. The maze of years will make the clearest mind faint, and the sound of the morning bell and the evening drum is always so secretive and surly. There, there is no such casual sand pile, everything is stuffy in the beautiful scenery, and countless ghosts who died for no reason can only dive deep into the ground in grief and regret. Unlike here, I can show a dry history and let me touch it with the pace of the 20th century.

There are shadows in the distance. Get there quickly, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climbing a slope, I suddenly looked up and saw a bare mound on the mountain not far away. My intuition is that this is a sunshine pass.

More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where the important pass is, where the military forces are stationed, these are indispensable. Turn a few corners, then go straight up a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, there is a monument nearby, engraved with? Yangguan ancient site? Four words.

This is a commanding height overlooking the four fields. The northwest wind thundered in Wan Li and came straight. After a few steps, it stopped. My feet stopped, but I clearly heard the chattering of my teeth. My nose must be red with cold soon. Oh, take a breath of hot air into your palm, cover your ears and jump a few times before you settle down and open your eyes. The snow here doesn't melt, of course not. There is no trace of the so-called ancient site, only the nearby beacon tower is still there, and this is the mound just seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed, and you can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds flying out, trembling in the cold wind after thousands of years. At present, it is a mountain in the northwest, all covered with snow, layered and reaching the sky. Anyone standing here will feel that he is standing on a rock by the sea. Those mountains are frozen oceans and waves.

Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For such a sunshine, the bottom of his pen still doesn't show the color of fierceness and terror, but quietly and elegantly writes:? Sincerely advise friends to drink a glass of wine, and it is difficult to meet their loved ones when they go out to Yang Guan in the west. ? He glanced at the green willow color outside the window of the Acropolis Guest House, looked at his friend's packed bags, and smiled and raised the hip flask. Have another drink, and you'll never find an old friend who can talk about wine like this outside the sun. This cup of wine, friends must not refuse, drink it off.

This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their vision is far away and their life path is wide. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, in Li Bai, Gao Shi, Cen Can there, glow more heroic. Among the ancient statues in the north and south, the statues of the Tang people can be recognized at a glance, with such strong bodies, calm eyes and confident spirit. When you see Mona Lisa's smile in Europe, you can feel it immediately. This serene self-confidence belongs only to those artists who really wake up from the nightmare of the Middle Ages and are quite sure of their future. The smile in the statue of the Tang Dynasty will only be more calm and serene. In Europe, these artists have been making a fuss for a long time, stubbornly trying to convey their smiles into the soul of history. Anyone can figure out how many years after the Tang Dynasty. But in the Tang Dynasty, it did not extend the confidence of artists for a long time. The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad.

Wang Wei's poems and paintings are unique, and the boundary between poetry and painting, which has been repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing, is now within his reach. However, the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists, allowing them to bend down as humble attendants to create a little entertainment. The old man in history stood in awe and turned away, trembling to return to the genealogy of the Three Emperors and Five Emperors. Here, there is no need for art to make a big fight, and there is no need to have too deep sustenance for beauty.

As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. There are still some scholars who left Yangguan in the west, but most of them have become officials and ministers.

Even mounds and stone towns can't stand the blowing of so many sighs, and Yangguan collapses and falls into the spiritual territory of a nation. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland. Behind him, sand graves are like tides, and in front of him, cold peaks are like waves. No one can imagine that here, 1000 years ago, the magnificence of life and the vastness of artistic feelings were verified.

There should be several voices of Hu Jia and Qiangdi here. The timbre is extremely beautiful, harmonious with nature and fascinating. Unfortunately, it has become the sad voice of the soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind.

Go home. It is getting late. I'm afraid it will snow.

Excerpt from "Cultural Journey"

With appreciation:

This is an essay full of historical vicissitudes, national pride and rational speculation.

The author's writing about Yangguan is not a general visit to a secluded place, nor is it a simple lyricism. Instead, the historical site of Yangguan is used to reflect the contribution made by the Chinese nation in the history of human civilization, and to pursue the life experience experienced by ancient China literati. Therefore, the author's description of Yangguan has gone beyond the meaning of Yangguan itself, thus entering a broader field of life, society and history.

We can divide the full text into three levels to understand.

Level 1: From the beginning to the third paragraph? What magic is hidden in their faded blue shirts?

The article begins with a discussion, pointing out all kinds of history? Is that weird? But the phenomenon of re-establishing the party: being an official and learning? After Emei Bo Belt has fallen into the mud? , they? Occasionally scribbled poems can engrave mountains and rivers and carve people's hearts. So many people will commit it in childhood? Build it yourself? Will this poetic scene happen again when you are an adult? Eager to visit the poetic realm on the spot? . Why did the life experience of ancient literati become the life experience of later generations? The author's emotions come to an abrupt end here, leaving readers with thinking and intriguing topics, which are conveyed subtly below.

The second level: from? Go to Yangguan to listen to Wang Wei's song "Cheng Wei Qu" today? To the eleventh paragraph? I intuitively believe that this is the sunshine channel? .

Did the author say it himself? The song Fortress Besieged is aimed at Wang Wei? Looking for sunshine is not just for the top? Eager to visit the poetic realm on the spot? Care and tell readers? For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable reasons? To pursue the purpose of life experience. The author then showed the readers a desolate, cold and empty scene on the edge of the desert. The description of the vast desert and the snow scene in the desert is both realistic and deep. From a realistic point of view, it is logical to take out the grave, which leads to the association: The loving mother in the Central Plains has white hair, the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, and the children in Hunan cry at night. Farewell to Liu Yin's hometown, staring at the generals and hunting military flags in the north wind? , a concise and vivid summary of the historical scene, and the mound itself is a symbol of the national spirit, highlighting the sociality and humanity, the author's sense of historical vicissitudes naturally came out. The tenth paragraph adopts the method of comparison, and the author says? Twenty-five histories are piling up, and the pages written on this wasteland are quite brilliant? ,? The Central Plains is different. The sound of the morning bell and the evening drum is always so secretive and surly? .

Twenty-five histories are the so-called official histories compiled by emperors in previous dynasties. In this way, the author not only points out the decadent and extravagant life of successive dynasties, but also sets off the heroic spirit of the soldiers in front of them who are struggling to defend the frontier and shows the national spirit of the Chinese nation in defending the frontier and opening up wasteland and resisting foreign aggression.

The third level is rest. This part is a direct tribute to the Yangguan site. After describing the desolation of Yangguan with images of cold wind, reeds, mountains and rivers, snow and beacon towers, the author returned to Wang Wei's "Cheng Wei Qu" and brought it out with this eternal swan song? Don's demeanor? Although the journey is hard, they will not cry and lament. Farewells are frequent, and the steps are generous. Sadly, before the Tang Dynasty, the artist's self-confidence did not last long. The palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists? , therefore,? The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad. , finally? Yangguan collapsed, collapsed on the spiritual map of a nation. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland? . ? The spiritual territory of the nation? What about the above? The historical old man stood in awe and turned away, trembling to return to the genealogy of the three emperors and five emperors? It's all prose brushwork. In essence, what the author criticizes here is feudal conservatism and decay in a broad sense, which is limited to the feudal system. Glorious history is just a flash of sunshine, which can only be stagnant in the long and dark imperial genealogy. This level is intertwined with the author's complex emotions, gratification and regret, which are revealed from time to time through a strong sense of historical vicissitudes, with the effect of singing and sighing.

This essay is full of passion, and the author sings all the way, rich and keen feelings and passionate feelings for national culture give people a strong infection.