"Shake, shake, shake, shake to the Waipo Bridge, and my grandmother calls me …" Whenever I hear this ballad, my grandmother's figure will come to my mind. The old woman, wrinkled by time, led me onto the lush path of poetry.
I still remember that day, I moved a low stool to sit on my grandmother's knee and recite poems with her. Jiangnan, where the grass grows and the warbler flies, trickles through, the subtle sound of the breeze blowing rain, and the gentleness of people living in small bridges spread from the poem. Grandma wears reading glasses and holds Poems of Tang and Song Dynasties, smiling contentedly in the sunshine.
"Do you know Li Bai?" She asked me under the flower tree in front of the door. "I know! The foot of my bed is shining with such bright light. Is it frosty already? Looking up, I found it was moonlight, sinking again, and I suddenly remembered home. It was written by Li Bai. " I am still young. I can recite the Tang poems I just learned. """Ha ha ha ..." She smiled gently. "Li Bai, this is a great talent ..."
In memory, she is always smiling, and the curved corners of her mouth seem to build a bridge of memory.
"Grandma, today my father taught me to recite Mulan Poetry, and I recited it for you-chirp, Mulan is knitting at home ..." I tried to recite some long and short lines of poems, all in order to recite grandma's praise. Grandma bent her eyes into a crescent moon and her mouth into a small bridge. She said, "On a moonlit night, there are 24 bridges between the moon and the small bridge. Where can jade people teach to play the flute? " I couldn't understand such a beautiful and profound poem, so I complained, "Who wrote the poem? I can't understand it. " Grandma smiled and shook her head and said softly, "Du Mu, a three-year-old man, lives in Yangzhou. I won't say anything before. " Du Mu? I patted my head and said with surprise, "Is that Du Mu asking where the restaurant is, and the Xinghua Village the shepherd boy refers to?" Grandma nodded in surprise and smiled.
It is the beautiful scenery on the bridge, which is presented on grandma's lips and bent into a vivid arc. However, I don't know how sad the shadow under the bridge is where the sun can't shine.
"Grandma's childhood is no better than yours." My mother told me, "Grandma was poor when she was a child. At that time, she often went to the teacher next door to attend classes and went to the mountains to pick up pig grass and cook. Those poems and songs were written by your uncle after giving birth to a baby. "
I was both surprised and a little sad ... that's how grandma got her poems!
It suddenly occurred to me that Fan Zhongyan eats cold porridge and pickles every day just to study. My grandmother has something in common with him, doesn't she?
I've always wondered why grandma could study so hard at that time, even though she was not qualified. Only then suddenly there were some enlightening poems.
It seems that there is a bridge across time, which stands in the hearts of my grandmother and me. I suddenly understood what my grandmother meant, so I reluctantly embarked on the road of poetry. They are endless, but they are breathtaking customs in life.
Shake, shake, shake, I accidentally fell on grandma's bridge.