Along with the text, gently stroke the gentle dream of poetry

Along with the text, gently stroke the gentle dream of poetry

How many dark clouds floating outside the window, the mood has its own little banana do not show clove knot melancholy, I'm afraid God wants to add a trace of cool for this how warm still cold time. When I opened my microblog which had not been updated for a long time, I found that a reader whose ID was drunk and in love with a beautiful woman had left a short message which made me think deeply.

Drunk love beauty: in this increasingly impetuous era, like you so static keep in the text after 90 really not much, looking at your article, I seem to place myself among them, that petal peach blossom flying, that artistic conception, is really too wonderful, too happy, your literary grace, make me impressed. I didn't mean to disturb you, but I really appreciate it!

After reading this short statement, I don't know whether to be happy or sad.

Joy is that I didn't think of his article can give the reader you've never met a wonderful and joyful, the moment I do is to hide some of the excitement, however, I knew I just a pseudo scholar, written with literary talent, is still far far away, even not what gift, once in a while to write a good word, It was only borrowed from books I had read.

Worry is, as the reader said, in this impetuous era, can sink down to read the text of the young people seem to really not much, looking at the friends around every day by hand to walk, sometimes more than a mouth to persuade, but did not want to exchange for a "with you what to do" such a cold thorn.

It was thought that only people living in the Tang and Song Dynasties could understand such a poem. No one ever thought they could feel it in such a developed information age. Readers have asked me, why would I use such a bleak pen name? I TELL HER, WHEN a person lonely WANDER IN the text for a long time, longitudinal ten thousand kinds of amorous feelings, more with whom to say?

Can it be said that a person like me, who loves literature but is not a scholar, is not suitable to exist in such an era? No one can tell me the answer, I can only explore it by myself, only in the company of the ancient scroll, draw a inkstone, a feeling.

Sometimes I hold my chin, quietly looking at the sky, why I was born in the era of westward journey, but also want to make friends with The Three Kingdoms, and since when, unexpectedly gave birth to a dream of the Red chamber heart.

Perhaps, my sentimental heart is born with it, specially for the kind of pear to thank the fear of hard to stop the sad and born. I will be sad because of the water flowing from the flowers, I will also be sad because of the endless falling wood rustling, I will also be disappointed because of the rain to hit the banana fan.

Because of a sentimental heart of the dream of the Red chamber, the words produced by my pen are mostly with a shallow sad charm, but do not lose the aesthetic style of painting. I like to sit quietly in a quiet place, watching the flowers blossom and fall in front of the court, watching the clouds in the sky, listening to the gentle spring breeze bring me distant thoughts, and then holding the swan goose to bring me a greeting.

Others laugh at me too crazy, I laugh at others see not wear, who can understand, I am in the heart to tell you ah, that every word without fail poured into my true feelings and intentions, and who can understand, I have already incarnate myself as the words in the butterfly, looking forward to can fall in your warm shoulder, dance for you to clarify the shadow.

In life, you can eat without meat, but not feasible without text, no meat just make people thin, no text is vulgar, people thin or fat, people vulgar where to rely on?

Like snow, no matter how many thorns on the road in the literature, I hope you will not forget the beginner's mind, has always insisted on going, trying to let oneself become a chest hidden if ink empty valley, abdomen has fuhai gas from China and young, in order to feather fan of black silk ribbon scarf carries in between heaven and earth and the accompanying text, look forward to your person from the earth, promenading counted and stand out from the crowd.

Nestled in the time of the ferry, place oneself in misty rain Jiangnan, support a black tent ship, and listen to the wind Yin boat from horizontal, make oneself a romantic text dream.

Let me follow with the words, no matter where to go, do not provoke a trace of dust, do not pick a bunch of fragrance, only to be touched at night gentle poetry dream.