Dazes of Summer Nights

When it comes to summer nights, I immediately recall Wang Ling's seven lines of "Summer Drought and Bitter Heat": "The clear wind is powerless to butcher the heat, and the setting sun flies up the mountain with its wings. People are already afraid of the exhaustion of the rivers and seas, but does the sky not pity the dryness of the river and the Han? Kunlun's high has snow, Penglai's far often left cold. Can't carry the world to, how can I bear to go to swim among them?" Wang Ling lamented that he could not carry Kunlun "snow", Penglai "left cold" to remove the heat and nourish the drought, I am a layman, no Wang Ling's mind, just hate myself not to send you nourishment and cool. In this hot and unbearable night, I have been thinking, in that more hot and humid sky, how did you survive a hot and humid night like a steamer?

I couldn't stand the heat, so I went for a walk along the Weishui River to cool off. In the beautiful south shore park of Xianyang Lake and the natural river, people were sitting or lying down, walking or playing, but I couldn't keep my eyes off your silhouette. Although I know that this is an impossible fantasy, but still heart can not help but seek.

From far and near the oncoming beauty, some wearing or white or light or short or long or transparent or revealing dresses, like the nymphs just out of the Milky Way bath, have such as harnessing the breeze of April poplar flowers, the style of floating and come, and dazzling floating and go, accompanied by a faint fragrance. In the distance, I look at them like you, to the front but only disappointed, looking back at the distant back, and can not stop the loss of melancholy. They are very beautiful, but lacking in your sultry feelings.

The girls playing on the beach, long, snow-white legs, like peeling the skin of the bare feet, in the light yellow beach into a sand nest, or bending over with jade arms on the jade hands, cupping the slightly yellowed silver sand, let it fall from the fingers. I look at their happy swaying slender figure, imagine that you are very far away, if with them, I am afraid you are the pavilion of the white swan. They are not as handsome as you.

The beauty sitting quietly on the lawn, like a statue of the goddess of mercy carved in ice, green willow-like long hair draped over the tender powder-like white snow back muscle, black and white and poetic. Low open breast reveals the pear-like breasts, high double breast and cleavage of the deep let people psychedelic. The jade arms hold the jade legs, jade knees under the snow-white soft thighs reflecting the slightly exposed rounded buttocks. With the peach blossom reflected in the pink face slightly raised, willow eyebrows under the phoenix eyes gazing ahead. I do not know what they are thinking, but they are not you, because they do not have your elegance.

The lights are fading, the stars on the blue sky are obviously more, and a hooked crescent moon is brighter. They look down at the lights of the misty place, a silver bridge car behind a pair of men and women lying opposite each other, the woman a long white dress romantic rolled up the thighs, a leg straight out, a leg bent on it, sleeveless arms propped up diagonally long hair like a waterfall head, that long hair along the shoulders, down the upper arm to the bamboo cooler underneath. Although I can't see her delicate face, but I know that at the moment she is happily gazing at her lover opposite, face, eyes full of sweetness, that is certain. Suddenly, in my illusion, she is you, and she is facing, is me. I rubbed my eyes, pinched my thighs and understood that it was definitely not you and me. Just, in this sultry summer night, are you alone to the lonely lamp?

I walked to the water's edge, and the bubbling water reflected the neon lights on the tall buildings on the other side of the river, and in the twinkling rainbow, the crescent moon stood out. Although the floating light was misty, her pure essence remained the same. In the water, the bright crescent moon gazed at me in the overflowing light, like a twinkling of its words. Looking up, the brighter crescent moon is boldly staring at me, I walk she moves, I stop she is quiet. I know that she is not shy and hidden because you are not at the water's edge. The only thing is, in this hot and humid night, are you at some cape or waterfront, watching the shy and squirming moon alone?

In some further river bend, an old man who could not see the wrinkles (I think it should be an old man) sitting alone on a small stool, a coffee table in front of a hot water bottle, a Yixing pot, a jade porcelain cup, a person silently sipping slowly, a person alone to the passing water, a person looking up at the curved crescent moon of the western sky ...... I do not know why he would avoid the lively crowd and brilliant lights, lonely to this place alone to taste the fragrance of tea, I do not know what he is thinking at this moment, is it to chase fame and fortune Confucius, or to think of the natural life of Laozi? Is thinking of Sakyamuni's deceitfulness, or thinking of Zhuang Sheng's arrogance and unrestrained? Or, did he actually think of nothing, just enjoying his solitude? I do not know him, but I know myself, I envy and envy him, but I can not do him. In my heart, only that tea room clean and quiet corner, you and I sat opposite each other, drinking a pot of Longjing, talking about the interests of life, it na each other's thoughts. Now, in this sultry summer night, is there someone to accompany you to drink a cup of bitter and fragrant tea?

I silently walk alone, along the sparkling water, gradually away from the hustle and bustle, thinking about the Xin Jiaxuan's famous line: "the crowd to find her a thousand hundred degrees, look back at twilight, that person is in the lamplight". However, you know, "where the lights go down" there is no you, nor the sound of the osprey, only light and dark mixed sand islets, dense water plants, frogs chirping, crickets singing.