Wen/An Yiru
There are too many people who like this sentence. If life is just like the first time.
it can be seen that we are all deeply sorry. Fate is like the most precious silk, how wonderful it is. When you get it in your hand, it always shines. Those strewn at random are inherent sins.
Because too many people like it, I can't bear to give it up. I have considered whether I should use it as the title of the book or use another name, "Pondering to the present", which is also my favorite poem, but it is not as affectionate as this desolate one.
I finally used this sentence.
I was in a small town in the south when I wrote this book. I often write that the sky is sparse, I lie on the windowsill and smoke a cigarette. I turn around and look at those unfinished words, just like an unfinished road. I know, but I am in no hurry. Everything will arrive at the right time. It's not the first time we've met, so we know how to cherish each other better and will never miss it again.
no one knows what a delicate and fragrant mood I experienced when I wrote them. It's like stepping on the blue starlight at night, walking into the forest, gently pulling the copper ring with the lion pattern and knocking on the door of an ancient castle with a mysterious garden.
that forest is located in the east, and that garden is an ancient Chinese garden. There are not princes and princesses living in it, nor handsome earl who will become a vampire. They will be elegant, blue and upright men, in the sunset bridge, in the broken sound, speechless from the fence, longing for unfinished wishes, unfinished love. Or is it fierce, chanting poems with a halberd, cooking wine with green plums, and a man's heart is like a sword, just dancing for the world.
There are also women, wearing bright makeup, waiting there quietly, waiting for the right person to suddenly look back. It is a woman's destiny to expect to be loved. Here, Wu Meiniang and Chen Ajiao are the same, Jiang Caiping and Yang Yuhuan are the same, Ban Jieyu and Wang Zhaojun are the same, Zhuo Wenjun and Wang Chaoyun are the same, Huo Xiaoyu and Yu Xuanji are the same, Xue Tao and Li Jilan are the same, and Li Qingzhao and Zhu Shuzhen are the same. No fighting, no winning or losing, no right or wrong. They are just ordinary women, breaking free from all kinds of shackles imposed on them, and here, time begins to thin. The boundaries between love and hate in time and space began to blur. What is left is only the reflection in the water and the lingering fragrance in the flower diameter.
those colorful words prove that they have been here. Who did you first meet in this life? This question mark, at the end of one's life, was not so important.
when I was writing these poems, if I happened to be playing with my computer, I would also type the word "Baidu". I've always liked Baidu better than google, just because Baidu makes me think of the phrase "Look for her in the crowd." Typing this sentence is like looking at the palm of whose hand such a seed once bloomed. I know, I'm looking for a familiar smell. Yes, a word, the breath attached to it is very important. Although I know that they didn't belong to me, and they don't belong to anyone now.
these poems are like flowers falling in the spring breeze in March. It is such tiny and magical particles that are implanted in different hearts and produce different flowers. They are always dazzling, like waves, all around us, repeating and overlapping ... We never know whether they are reproducing or walking in a cycle.
this has been going on for thousands of years.
You must believe that these words have souls. They know how to choose the soil suitable for their survival, not to be bent or buried, and no one can force them, otherwise they will be very embarrassed.
I'm tired of treating poems with a very serious face, because when I was young, when I came into contact with them, it was a very relaxed way. I still remember that it was a beautiful picture book with pictures and poems printed on one side. No one told me that you have to read it in a level and level way, and you have to know the author of this poem's thoughts and experiences. It doesn't matter. I just remember them and like them, and then one day, we understand each other.
Therefore, I prefer to write them with a very cherished mood, regard myself as a gardener, and know what kind of love and understanding these flowers need. Carefully plant them, talk to them, and look forward to seeing the truth hidden in the stamens. After the completion, remember them and set them free. What a good gardener should do is to help a flower find its home, help them build a home, then pat the soil on his body and look for another batch of flowers with a smile-although sometimes it will be hit by such surging gorgeous.
To cherish without infatuation is like treating your own children, and you should be willing to let them go when appropriate.
This is such a book, which is full of stories and only looks at the world through this romantic treasure. In the end, it has nothing to do with love. Just like when we met a person at first sight, we once met each other, thinking that we could follow each other for thousands of miles, but we finally passed by by by mistake, slowly, slowly, without remembering.
And those poems and words, I only regard them as annotations of each story, and they have nothing to do with the story itself. It's someone's imprint on time on a certain day, and in the end, it has nothing to do with this person.
if life is just like the first time, it seems that it is so important. However, what does this life have to do with who first saw it? Life is vain, and you can see that these flowers, which have been reincarnated for thousands of years, are still blooming without me or him.
If life is just like seeing the first time (1) A Song of Sorrow
It is said that Ban Jieyu should start with A Song of Sorrow, and that Yang Guifei should take Song of Eternal Sorrow as the topic, but no, with Nalan Rong Ruo's sentence "Life is just like seeing the first time", everything has a reason to begin to exist.
staying up late at night, reading "Drinking Words", I still think this sentence is the best. In fact, this word is really dull, but this sentence is really dumb, like Zhang Sengyou's painting of dragons, and like Simon's sword blowing blood, it kisses your neck accurately, elegantly and silently. When I feel it, I can't go back to the beginning.
"What's the West Wind Paintings Fan" is about Ban Jieyu, the princess of Emperor Hancheng, a famous elegant and virtuous woman in history books, with a noble family. When he entered the palace in the early years of his reign, he was virtuous because of his beauty and was deeply favored. Once, Emperor Cheng wanted to travel with her, and she said, "All the sages and sages have famous ministers at their side, but at the end of the three generations, the Lord had a daughter." Retreat and dare not serve a letter.
At that time, when the king's love was in full swing, because he praised her virtuous, the harem also welcomed her, which was described as a beautiful talk, as if she were Fan Ji of Chu Zhuangwang and the eldest grandson and empress of Li Shimin. She is also complacent, thinking that she is deeply indebted to you and has no family precepts, so they complement each other. Queen Xu is stupid. She is a person who quietly pampers the sixth house. Where can we find such a good day? I only hope that love will last for a long time, such as a palace name and a long letter.
however, one day, she came! She came with her sister Hede.
Feiyan's entry into the Han Palace is the beginning of her loneliness. Everything is so unexpected. All the love and luck came to an abrupt end with the dancer who was as light as a swallow.
Although Shanmeng is in love, it is empty.
The world is so changeable, just like Nalan said, "It's easy to change when you are idle, but it's easy to change when you are old." It is also like Liu Yuxi's "Bamboo Leaves": "It's better to hate people's hearts than water, and make waves casually."
She wrote "Song of Hatred", also known as "Song of the Round Fan", comparing herself with the round fan, which made her feel sad and touching-
The newly-made Qi Wan Su is as bright as frost and snow.
cut it into acacia fan, and the reunion is like the bright moon.
Go in and out of your arms and shake the breeze;
I often fear that autumn will come, and the coolness will seize the heat;
in the process of giving up donations, the Tao is absolutely out of kindness.
this is a kind gesture from her female intellectuals. She is not the queen of Xu. When flying swallows are in full bloom, Youzi stood there and didn't avoid it. She was born and hated. Ban Jieyu has a clear understanding of her situation, otherwise she wouldn't have invited herself to serve the Queen Mother, and after the death of the emperor, she went to guard the mausoleum for the emperor and died alone.
She just didn't expect, unexpectedly, that her lofty and self-boasting, dust-free self will become the spokesperson of palace grievances in the future. Many years later, a man seemed to get a glimpse of her plight from the Song of the Fan, and wrote Five Poems of Long Letter and Autumn to pity her-
The phoenix tree in Jinjing has yellow autumn leaves, and the bead curtain does not roll the frost at night.
The jade pillow in the smoking cage has no color, and it is long to lie down and listen to the Nangong.
The anvil of the autumn palace rings at midnight, and the frost is deep enough to remember the cold clothes.
The tailor rested on the silver lamp and looked at the wise master of Jincheng.
The broom opens the Golden Temple, and the round fan lingers temporarily.
The color of jade is not as good as that of Western jackdaw, but she still brings the shadow of Zhaoyang.
it's really unlucky to think about it for a long time, dreaming that the king is suspicious.
When the fire shines in the West Palace, you will know how to drink at night, and it is clear that when you return to the Tao, you will be grateful.
The Moon is bright in the Mid-Autumn Festival in Changxin Palace, and His Royal Highness Zhaoyang is pounding clothes.
There are fine grass traces in the Bailu Hall, and there is no feeling in the red account.
I guess. She never expected this. If I had known, I would have held on even if there were lonely lights reflected on the wall and the room was cold and cold. I wouldn't have made a joke by biting my silver teeth.
sigh, she is Fan Ji, but her husband is definitely not Chu Zhuangwang. She has a brilliant sage, but her husband has no ambition to make a blockbuster. In fact, she is not weak. She has beauty and intelligence. She is too restrained in manners. She is too neat, and she has no lightness of flying swallows dancing around the royal curtain, nor the enchanting charm of taking a bath with Germany.
she is too serious to let go of her identity. Everything you do must follow the ethical code. I don't understand. You are just a mother-in-law, not a queen. When you become a concubine, you are still just a concubine. Women in the world, those who entered the palace and those who did not, are all the same. As long as the emperor is willing, he can get it. Jieyu and dancer are essentially the same, but they have changed their names. What's the point? The palace is a resplendent brothel, and the emperor is the biggest prostitute in the world.
remember Zhou Xingxing's version of The Duke Of Mount Deer? When Wei Xiaobao first entered the Heaven and Earth Society, Chen Jinnan pulled him into the Chamber of Secrets with a face of righteousness, saying, "We are fighting against the Qing Dynasty and regaining sight, just to get back our money and women!"! Wei Xiaobao asked, then why do you want to say such nonsense as anti-Qing and sight? Chen Jinnan said that smart people only tell the truth to smart people, and those stupid people outside just fool them with empty ideals ... Wei Xiaobao realized that they hit it off. After they came out, the two men still faced those stupid birds with a righteous face and made a generous speech. The stick was struck hard, and then, when I saw a grasshopper clamoring for something to be countered, I felt funny. I always thought of this sentence, and I still appreciated Jing Wong's straightforwardness and Zhou Xingxing's sharpness. Men look at men, only to see evil.
these men, the imperial dynasty is all over the world, and it's just a competition between Johns.
Fei Yan and He De, sisters, are beautiful things that pour the country and are born to provoke men. Emperor Cheng said that I should die of old age in (Hede) "gentle township", and it was a prophecy in one word.
One day, the man she loved finally died on another woman.
When the prosperity is exhausted and the son of heaven is lying in the cold grave like a mortal, Ban Jieyu, his abandoned lover and forgotten by him in the cold, is still in his cemetery, accompanying him all his life.
Just, when Jieyu closes his eyes, will he think of the scene when he entered the palace at the beginning of the year, and think of the day when he sat on a high golden chariot and held out his hand, smiling like water; Will she regret withdrawing her hand and not taking a ride with him? Snuggling with each other may be the most intimate moment.
very short. If life is just like the first time.
If life is just like the first time (2) Eternal regret song
Eternal regret song
Bai Juyi
china's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire, was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding.
till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown, bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her.
but with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed, at last one day was chosen for the imperial household.
if she but turned her head and smiled, there were cast a hundred spells, and the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing.
it was early spring. They bathed her in the FlowerPure Pool, which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin.
and, because of her languor, a maid was lifting her, when first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride.
the cloud of her hair, petal of her cheek, gold ripples of her crown when she moved, were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus curtains.
but nights of spring were short and the sun arose too soon, and the Emperor, from that time forth, forsook his early hearings.
and lavished all his time on her with feasts and revelry, his mistress of the spring, his despot of the night.
there were other ladies in his court, three thousand of rare beauty, but his favours to three thousand were concentered in one body.
The Golden House is dressed up to serve the night, and when tables were cleared in the Tower of Jade, she would loiter, slow with wine.
all brothers and sisters are emigrants, and, because she so illumined and glorified her clan.
she brought to every father, every mother through the empire, happiness when a girl was born rather than a boy.
...High rose Li Palace, entering blue clouds, and far and wide the breezes carried magical notes.
of soft song and slow dance, of string and bamboo music, the Emperor's eyes could never gaze on her enough.
till war-drums, booming from Yuyang, shocked the whole earth, and broke the tunes of The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
the Forbidden City, the nine-tiered palace, loomed in the dust, from thousands of horses and chariots headed southwest.
the imperial flag opened the way, now moving and now pausing, but thirty miles from the capital, beyond the western gate.
the men of the army stopped, not one of them would stir, till under their horses' hoofs they might trample those moth-eyebrows.
flowery hairpins fell to the ground, no one picked them up, and a green and white jade hair-tassel and a yellowgold hair-bird.
the Emperor could not save her, he could only cover his face, and later when he turned to look, the place of blood and tears.
was hidden in a yellow dust blown by a cold wind, at the cleft of the Dagger-Tower Trail they crisscrossed through a cloud-line.
under Emei Mountain. The last few came, flags and banners lost their colour in the fading sunlight.
but as waters of Shu are always green and its mountains always blue, so changeless was His Majesty's love and deeper than the days.
he stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace, he heard bell-notes in the evening rain, cutting at his breast.
and when heaven and earth resumed their round and the dragon car faced home, the Emperor clung to the spot and would not turn away.
from the soil along the Mawei slope, under which was buried, that memory, that anguish. Where was her jade-white face?.
ruler and lords, when eyes would meet, wept upon their coats, as they rode, with loose rein, slowly eastward, back to the capital.
the pools, the gardens, the palace, all were just as before, the Lake Taiye hibiscus, the Weiyang Palace willows.
but a petal was like her face and a willow-leaf her eyebrow, and what could he do but cry whenever he looked at them?.
peach-trees and plum-trees blossomed, in the winds of spring, lakka-foliage fell to the ground, after autumn rains.
the Western and Southern Palaces were littered with late grasses, and the steps were mounded with red leaves that no one swept away.
Li Yuan disciple Bai Fuxin, and the eunuchs thin-eyebrowed in her Court of PepperTrees;.
over the throne flew fire-flies, while he brooded in the twilight., he would lengthen the lamp-wick to its end and still could never sleep..
bell and drum would slowly toll the dragging nighthours, and the River of Stars grow sharp in the sky, just before dawn.
and the porcelain mandarin-ducks on the roof grow thick with morning frost, who's with * * *?
with the distance between life and death year after year, and yet no beloved spirit ever visited his dreams.
at Lingqiong lived a Taoist priest who was a guest of heaven, able to summon spirits by his concentrated mind.
Show your thoughts for the king, that they besought the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.
he opened his way in space and clove the ether like lightning, up to heaven, under the earth, looking everywhere.
above, he searched the Green Void, below, the Yellow Spring, but he failed, in either place, to find the one he looked for.
and then he heard accounts of an enchanted isle at sea, a part of the intangible and incorporeal world.
with pavilions and fine towers in the five-coloured air, and of exquisite immortals moving to and fro.
and of one among them-whom they called The Ever True, with a face of snow and flowers resembling hers he sought.
so he went to the West Hall's gate of gold and knocked at the jasper door, and asked a girl, called Morsel-of-Jade, to tell The Doubly- Perfect.
and the lady, at news of an envoy from the Emperor of China, was startled out of dreams in her nine-flowered, canopy.
she pushed aside her pillow, dressed, shook away sleep, and opened the pearly shade and then the silver screen.
Yunji is half asleep, and her flower-cap was loose when she came along the terrace.
while a light wind filled her cloak and fluttered with her motion, as though she danced The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
and the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face, were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear.
but love glowed deep within her eyes when she bade him thank her liege, whose form and voice had been strange to her ever since their parting.
in since happiness had ended at the Court of the Bright Sun, the sun and the moon grow in the Pengcai Palace.
but when she turned her face and looked down toward the earth, and tried to see the capital, there were only fog and dust.
so she took out, with emotion, the pledges he had given, and, through his envoy, sent him back a shell box and gold hairpin.
but kept one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box, breaking the gold of the hairpin, breaking the shell of the box.
"Our souls belong together," she said, "like this gold and this shell", somewhere, sometime, on earth or in heaven, we shall surely.
and she sent him, by his messenger, a sentence reminding him, of vows which had been known only to their two hearts.
on the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life, we told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world.
that we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one, and to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree..
earth endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end, while this unending sorrow goes on and on for ever.
if life is just like the first time, what is it to draw a fan in the autumn wind? It's easy to change, but it's easy to change.
Li shan's words will stop at midnight, but the rain will never complain. What's more, if you're lucky and lucky, you'll be more willing than ever.
-this is the whole article of Mulan Rong Ruo's "Mulan Ling, Imitating Ancient Words". What I have been thinking in my heart, "If life is just like seeing it for the first time", should be the time to go from the Han Dynasty to the Tang Dynasty. Han and Tang Dynasties, the most glorious years in 5, years, are still the pride of the Chinese nation.