April 19, 2010 candle Hong
I dream of Miluo River. Not the same as with the reality, it is the backwards flow. The lower the upstream and downstream heights. It just flows back from the mouth has been the source of the hills. Brackish taste gradually fades, becomes nothing else. Surface of the boat, also in a strange posture road. If you look carefully, we will find: it is actually movjimmy choo handbagsing backwards. Leading into a tail. All the sailors are rowing in the opposite direction, the action actually quite skilled. Who taught them to draw upside down? I really worry about such a plan go on, carved dragon boat, sooner or later become a source of wood, bark or even to re-grow. Ring constantly shrinking.
feed the fish dumplings, knots untied (want system is slipknot a), iris leaves or so green (as if you can continue to grow), but has been loosely; wrapped in glutinous rice inside, but not ripe , will return … … As for the fellow in the barn feeding the fish around, find themselves chasing the bubbles have been, they are beginning to feel hungry.
All this surprised me. Actually can not think of life upside down before. What strange things will happen the following? I want to see it, where he is?
Oh, man sleeping in the bottom, a little bit awake. He stretched, surface; then, the same as the gradual return of memory, slow swim back to shore … …
I do not need tips, I guess you can guess who he is.
Dragon boat race is the sound of gongs and drums to wake him, right? he certainly can not imagine that this is set up for him a holiday. The water cold? Fast ashore to rest.
that person pursuant to backtrack, wet footprints left in the hot sun beach. He remembered something like like, looked at, the trees are still, the clothes are still piled on the side. In his sleep, a man named Hai Pin youth had been to call: “See? That two white doves, it is left lying on the beach of Qu Yuan shoes. Let us – we and the river together put it on it … … “Well, then the poet, the pioneer of the shoes and socks are keeping good care of.
He wore shoes, put on his clothes, a good sword worn at the waist again, righting the crown tilted Mindanao, like to line a remarkable ceremony, head and looking: Oh, my country still, the people also, the smoke is still … … all of his farewell, are still! still waiting for him.
No one will steal his stuff, no one can steal away his things. Even a stitch, plants, and are placed in accordance with AS, as if time did not simply flow, as if he simply never left.
He was excited and wanted to write poetry. Title has been thought well, called “Lament.” He must also write poetry can be written backwards, from the countdown began to write the first line from the last word began to write … … I am afraid that only in this moment, he realized that he: is a backwards from the depths of time approaching shadow.
Perhaps only in this moment, I realized: That man has not really risen, he just woke up in my dream. In reality, a wake the dead is impossible.
He dreamed that he died, died of water. He died, died of a dream. He made a dream of death could not break free. How cry, how to roll – including the harsh pinch himself about, they can not break free. Dripping like a dream down the river, he has no future, only the past, small to infinitesimal past. He again and again to doing the same dream: to live plants gently wrapped his body in place of it off the shore of the coat; As for the fish, I do not know when to become obedient, but not peck kiss his own … …
If he does this dream how wonderful. If he has done is another dream, or simply do not dream, how wonderful. He did not choose this dream. This dream, choose him.
He dreamed that he died, he did not wake up. Even woke up, and only the dreams of others. This dream is really too long. The two years do you? May be even more?
Perhaps he did not die, but become hostages of their own dreams coerced. Who can save the drowning man famous? He was not dead, just sleeping in the bottom. He did not die, his dream alive.
In addition to the dreamer himself, no one knew he was still alive. His call for help in a dream, others hear. He struggled in the water, others can not see. All of which are in the form of the expression of dreams. He only dreamed of his own voice and actions. Indeed, he only dreamed of on the shore of pedestrians (to lend a helping hand.) In addition to the dreamer himself, no one knows: he where?
He dreamed that he died, did not wake up. Because he tried his best, can not dream yourself awake (this is probably the difference between death and hibernation). He could not do another dream.
he could dream of, just their own death, and death thing.
he was dead. His death, to continue dreaming.
In fact, before he really drowned, has been no stranger to death. When the prisoner arrives in strong, contradict the king in time for the vanilla in the beauty and moved to tears when, in exile on the way, listening to singing late fisherman, he has a premonition that his own death. Especially in poetry, he has advanced the death of the paper. This is what the poet: only live once, you can die many times.
He even death, have kept alive the attitude ah: frown, xingmou staring eyes, long hair flowing, his lips half-open half-Kai for singing like … … you just can not see him in a dream, and like awake.
he was in the process of walking, walked, suddenly left God, and to dream, to dream of the dead to walk anymore. This makes his last walk completely into somnambulism: lost eyes, stiff limbs, numbness of the face, and the spasm of the heart … … he started, and can no longer return. He dreamed that he lost in a strange crowd. Sure enough, got lost. He turned a blind eye to a step by step into the water; first knee, then shoulder, and ultimately drowned!
Should be said, lost in the poet place, also lost his country, into an abyss of misery. Because there is no heed to the advice of the poet.
not retain, and insisted that those who make sacrifices for the motherland.
full circle to doing the same dream. He is not dead but dreaming of their own dead. He did not die, he lives in a dream – in his dreams, and even other people dreams.
I was a poet. I dream of Qu Yuan – stay in the forefront of the poet, but also the river of his dreams. Or, I dream of Qu Yuan did not die, only fell asleep Qu Yuan, Qu Yuan sleep in underwater dream … …
I always assume that Qu Yuan was a difficult situation to happen to them what happens? The same in spirit kinds of oppression before, Qu Yuan drowned, and I stayed in the bank. This does not prevent me to myself as a shadow of Qu Yuan. Shadow always escape. But I do not understand: he is stronger, or do even more cowardly? Is because the students love it, or because of fear of death? To write poetry, I feel like Qu Yuan: has died of a back. After a person died can not die. I am unable to aid in the water of Qu Yuan, Qu Yuan, but clearly saved me: I used his death, in exchange for his own life. I learned to avoid through his piece of the deadly swamp. I can be healthy, strong and to stay alive, Qu Yuan, a favor owed.
I did not see the web goes extremely subtle. I only saw the moth floating rigid body. It must be what gives stuck! Or why not fly away, not down? Of course, there may be all the suspense is superfluous, because no one can weave endless transparent network. It only shows: air will kill them! Only innocent insects, was nothing captured and made into something that would prove the existence of the specimens. I estimate that Yuan is the case, I that way all poets are like this: not afraid of death, fears nothing, because nothing is more difficult to get rid of than death. He meekly bear the fate of any penalty, although did not know he did something wrong. Punishment means closed. This is the reason for his more easily.
back Miluo River, back to one only came in a dream place. Scenery has not changed, and I become another person.
Perhaps I did not dream of Qu Yuan, but sleep in the bottom of the Yuan, I dreamed of standing on the shore. I hope I can continue to live in his place, finish the rest of the road. I thought I saw a disheveled man sinking into the rapids of the process – just like a washing machine to be crazily in the clothes. I hope it was not him. He is not here! His soul, has been properly hiding. His soul is still on the shore … …
that person to Miluo River. The man walked barefoot on the beach, carrying hand, fear of being in wet shoes. The man finally stopped and began to undress slowly, one by one off, then carefully stacked on the side of … … estimated his daily before going to sleep well. In order to post up the next morning to put on more easily. This is a good habit, get rid of do not have to change.
that person has not looked back. Do not know what I looked at him in the back, looked at a lot of people behind him.
and I can only afar off that person back. Even not clear what he looks like in the end long.
man stretching his arms, ready to jump into the water. I really want to rush forward stop him! I even have a start. I think, even if too late to persuade him, I can in time to remove him from the inside to Miluo river, back from the brink of death.
I finally stopped, however, glad that they did not make any rash thing. Because, in his diving the moment, I see it clearly: He actually was wearing a bright triangular swimming trunks. That person is not Qu Yuan, but is just an ordinary swimmer. Even if the Yuan is indeed a place in the human diving diving, and also already dead. I the latecomer, how to catch up too late for.
But in that moment, I almost thought he was wrong and Yuan exposure to the same era. Illusion is really good: time across the river, two thousand years ago, I reach out a hand of the drowning man … …
eat dumplings when I not only think of Qu Yuan, Qu Yuan sister also thought. She called the woman to be. Dumplings is her invention. She wrapped sticky rice with iris leaves into the river to feed (“bribe”?) Fish to prevent them from pecking the poet body out of hunger – this is a cause for tears of the memorial. How careful a woman ah.
Qu Yuan was alone. I do not know what other relatives.
Qu Yuan sister is my sister, she is raising her brother, in fact in the upbringing of a future body. She even have to feed those extra fish in a circular motion around the drowning person. The so-called dumplings, to save his sister under the rations.
how to do the poet sister, Lei Ya. Simply compared the poet wife, but also pain. Because his wife is a choice. To be a poet sister, or about half of the mothers, along with half a wife. She does not care about politics, but indirectly, become a victim. She did not know history, still to enter history. She does not write poetry, but she and the poet have a natural kinship, is more important than the king. As a poet, I not only respect for Qu Yuan, the same respect for his sister. Qu Yuan sister is my sister.
King to Qu Yuan sad. Qu Yuan, so that his sister sad. Qu Yuan, who I find not only a perfect place. Sister in the thinking of a body, and how the body will be made in response to the distance? I can not foresee their own future. Qu Yuan happy than I am. He has a sister. During his lifetime and after death, are to take care of him, put him as the children grow up. My sister, where is it?
This year Dragon Boat Festival, a lonely poem Renzailvtu to eat dumplings. He imagined: This is his face blurred, long-lost sister, to do. Therefore, he must live well.
in Shanhaiguan threw themselves in front of the contemporary poet Zi, wrote a “sister”: “Sister, I am in Delhi tonight (a small town in Qinghai), tonight I do not want human beings, I just want you!” I a little modification, turn donated to Qu Yuan sister (and all the poet sister): “Sister, I Miluo River tonight, tonight I do not want human beings, I just want you!”
Zhao Fulian heard early in the Hawking said to come, Hawking maintains his characteristic body posture and even reveal a smile to come to Hangzhou!
Hawking to Hangzhou, people thought it was a science master at a meet with the scientific community, a meeting, a classic scene as any Starchaser chapter. And in my private was thinking: Hawking should be to go to the covenant of the lotus lake.
When so many people are mad for the Hawking and when he sat in a wheelchair like what is it? Is the physical discomfort? Is to hold on desperately to be overflowing out of saliva? Is to take a rest in bed? Or the new black hole theory? These are known only to himself.
a weak footer, a disease of the elderly, the face of so many flowers, applause, praise and reputation, why did he not revealed the full of the joy of other stars and revel it? Even if it is fake? Everything is so quiet, quietly, as if the fall of a leaf, quietly floating, the blown one place, the wind about to move a bit. Wind does not blow to quietly with meditation. Those who remained in the branches of the flower and fruit has nothing to do with it, those who enjoy the flowers and enjoy the fruits of praise has nothing to do with it. It only belongs to the Earth. Return to the earth, its ideals and aspirations. Share of the earth to calm and quiet, share regrets and refined, and only piece of falling autumn leaves themselves, to be able to understand!
lot of time, Hawking has maintained a sculptural gesture. Without any kind of sculpture would like him to vivid, unforgettable like him will bear to go! Slanting of the body, neck and diagonally, and even his smile are also placed at an angle, I guess he saw and objects are also placed at an angle of, and only his heart straight standing.
flowers and smiling faces of all there together with the blessings of kissing, which is directed at his share of the upright in heart away!
Hawking silence most of the time, he is always mistaken for being asleep, and slept like Stephen Hawking is in fact better than anyone else awake. His search for beauty in the heart, it hurts a simple beauty. So, when he saw a lotus in full bloom when the West can not help but praise: the more beautiful, ah! Beauty is so simple! The U.S. has not so simple! When the lotus surface, slim in this world, those who have lived in the details of life in the mud on the Apprehension, and have devoted countless days and nights of hard work and sweat are turned into a ray of sweet memories and Latency of wisdom.
have any life in the process. When Hawking read lotus, the smiles, praise sincerely issue: more beautiful, ah!
in the beautiful West Lake, which in the next days of the lotus leaf, lotus Hawking not better more beautiful? He and Lotus integration.
breeze from the Department, the leaves and flowers are swaying up. Mosaic on the wind blowing, and blowing in Hawking face. Hawking, like a breeze, blowing us, blowing over the summer became the final touch of cool.
(from “Yangzi Evening News”)
tears Poetic (Wang Bo)
River boat, rocked the reed, south to gather the wind … … Gan Jiang glance, field of vision to find less than expected figure.
corner of my Poetic, unique to Wang Bo.
visitors, such as far-fetched thoughts autumn, thin nestled in the firm through time and space in the Poetic. Poetic stand the cold, the eyes open eyes closed room full of Wang Boqing thin melancholy look. Yu Qi Poetic setting sun embrace, slanting shadow Cabinet lying river in waves. Imperial gentleman still, far outside the threshold of the Yangtze space gravity. Lonely House on the scenes Gongchoujiaocuo no longer exist, only go along with poetry chord music. I sat alone on the ladder Court hearing the voice of Jiang, Jiang Bo hidden in the folds of peerless wit Wang Bo.
Court of sadness no noise, so I followed. Every inch of the floor, each strain Danzhu on in my heart tremble. Poetic continued to cry like a poem which is scarred Wang Bo. Poetic tears lonely way into my day dreams, wandering alone re-wandering. I can not find Wang Bo poem, many a dark night waking, looked on Court film until morning.
It is said: All the scenery will refuse some people and some people prefer, all people, born will belong to different scenery. Not moving in a positive classroom Teng Wang, a risk of further condemned by the devaluation, however, is not proud of but not erase his layers