One hundred thousand autumns
In a hundred thousand autumns,
there so many different names for autumn. Xiaochen and Xilu, Sujie and Shuangtian all refer to autumn, just like the sand dunes I have stepped on in Dunhuang in the past few days. After inquiring, I found out that there are strange phenomena hidden everywhere:
some are towering and silent, like eminent monks who are proving themselves; Some sand dunes are like duckweed, but they are also determined. When the wind blows, they leave as soon as they say they go, and immediately disappear.
Whenever I witness such a change, I can’t help but think: what I see in front of me is not just a desert, it is actually a desert formed by the accumulation of hundreds of thousands of deserts, just like this autumn in which I live, Inside it, there are actually 100,000 autumns surging. If you don’t believe me, let’s see how ancient and modern poets obeyed them
. Deep thinking”; aspirations are hard to stretch, Liu Chenweng wrote “Listen to the corner of the painting, the sadness is the dawn of frost”; Wang Anshi couldn’t help feeling agitated when he climbed high and looked far away, “Xiao Chen suddenly swept away the slender shadows, and Beiling first emerged from Qingweiwei”; Without his voice and appearance, Li Shangyin could only sigh, “The books from far away return to dreams, and only the empty bed is the enemy of Suqiu.”
More than obedience, in so many poems, the poets first seem to be full of red leaves on the mountain, making autumn self-evident, and then turned into ambush soldiers in the ground, digging and naming. In this way, when the time comes, they are like cities that have been breached In an instant, one hundred thousand autumns got their own brand new name and surname.
Only in terms of the sound of autumn, how many people have written poems about it. Zheng Banqiao has seen the autumn rain hitting plantains. The so-called “lovesickness can’t be exhausted, but the wind and rain complain about the sound of autumn”, but Li Yu sat down from the “curtain rustling autumn sound”. Fate: “The world follows the flowing water, and it is a dream to live.”
Hearing the sound of autumn for the first time, Lu You, who was lying stiff in a lonely village, gave birth to the joy of “a fast eagle descends with a strong claw and a strong man strokes a sword”. Gao Chan, the censor of the Tang Dynasty, felt that it was too late: “There are infinite paintings in the world, and there is no painting of sadness.”
After reading the sentences of the sound of autumn, I found that everyone has their own autumn living in their body, but it is so good: the faint sound of autumn makes the whole autumn prosper and decline, rise and fall, more like An iron-struck country that is surging and expanding!
Naturally, there are both desolate passers-by and confident returnees walking in this river and mountain. In my opinion, Jiang Jie’s “Slow Voice” is full of autumn sounds but is trapped by autumn sounds. , but still the returnee with luggage and heart in his hands—the
deep alley of yellow flowers, the red leaves and low windows, and the desolate sound of autumn. The sound of bean rain came, with the sound of wind in the middle. Shushu twenty-five o’clock, Liqiao door, unlocked and more sound. The old man is far away, ask who shakes the jade pendant, and the bell under the eaves rings?
The sound of colorful horns blows and the moon falls, gradually the battalion and horses move, and there are sounds of jigging everywhere. The neighboring lights are flashing, and there is still the sound of anvils in front of the lights. Knowing that he complained until dawn, how many croaking sounds! The complaint is not over, and half of it is divided into Yansheng.
I still remember that when I first read this “Slow Voice”, it happened that more than ten years ago, I came to Dunhuang for the first time. I read it in an extra-curricular Chinese textbook. After reading it, I was shocked and hated seeing each other late: in just one song, there are nine kinds of autumn sounds, such as rain, wind and watch, bells, horns and rattles, and more. The sound of the anvil, the sound of the crocodile and the sound of the wild goose are intertwined, but there is no noise at all. The sound is about to end, and the sound rises immediately, like a modest gentleman, easy to talk and negotiate, and like a dignified woman, who embraces misfortune and forgets it.
Jiang Jie, who lived in the late Song Dynasty and early Yuan Dynasty, lived in troubled times. Of course, he was full of hatred for losing his country. Naturally, he wrote about these things. The long-lasting voices, these voices come from the ruins of the country, but they will surely penetrate the ruins of the country and continue forever, so they will be forever old and young.
In the small noodle shop, for a long time, I was immersed in those distant autumn sounds and couldn’t extricate myself. Later, when I was awakened by the sound of a car horn, I thought that I would be separated from them forever, so I couldn’t help myself. I can’t stop feeling sad, but I suddenly realized that maybe the sound of car horns is the sound of autumn, maybe they will be like the other nine autumn sounds I just made, like Dunhuang, Autumn is like poetry, forever old and forever young?
Just at this time, a burst of camel bells came out from the gradually deepening night, I suddenly wanted to hear them clearly, I even wanted to hear more unknown sounds in the autumn night, so I went out of the small noodle shop, Following the sound of the camel bell, I ran farther and farther, as if, as long as I ran down, I could bring the autumn sound of the Song and Yuan Dynasties to the desert and wilderness at this moment, or, as long as I ran down, I could Go back to the deep alley of yellow flowers again, with the red leaves low under the window, to listen carefully, to obey, to shed tears silently.
Me and the rice, and the whole autumn, are one.
Yes , no matter when, what we can comfort ourselves is that our life is actually walking on the same path with those things that are older than us, even if In the interior of one hundred thousand autumns, except for the road that Huang Chao said, “When autumn comes, September 8th, I will kill the flowers after they bloom”, except for Liu Guo’s words, “Wipe your waist, blow your hair with your sword, and don’t cut Loulan’s heart.” “The road of “, there are always some other roads, they grow out of the gap between rise and fall, and grow out of the deserted forest with nowhere to go. Stretch forward, just because, honest people in this world, there is always a way to go!
These honest people were neither arrogant because of autumn, nor were they buried by autumn. In autumn, when they were separated from their relatives, they said: “I feel sorry for my little children, but I don’t remember Chang’an.” When they missed my brother, they said: ” The two places are in autumn and night, looking at each other and sharing the same galaxy.” The
road faces the sky, but I walk my narrow path, the city is towering, and I only rely on my grass thorns and mulberry trees. Yes, I believe that it is the same as the road under my feet. The honesty, although it is fragile and rugged, ashamed to show others, but it endured thousands of times and could not bear it. This perseverance and perseverance are actually diligence, like a banana leaf protruding from the ruined wall: ”
Singing crocodile, singing crocodile, attracting growth , the
hosta flower falls in the wild pond.
Garden Weng don’t fold the autumn lotus and
leave it with the swimming fish to cover the sunset.
This small order is called “Xicheng Abandoned Garden”. To be honest, the poetic realm and poetic art are considered shallow, but I still think of it often. You must know that the thoroughness of this poem is the same as that of Jiang Jie. , are all living in the chaotic times of the late Song and early Yuan, at least in this poem, the interest is clear, and a kind of unknown cheer is also obvious. If Jiang Jie’s “Slow Voice” is a disease and a mystery, this A piece of “Xicheng Abandoned Garden” can be regarded as the antidote and the answer to the mystery.
In front of “Slow Voice”, this little order is like a fish jumping out of a quiet lake, and between entering and leaving, there is at least one more sound in the world; In the back garden next door, they talked, played and waited for the flowers to bloom. Unexpectedly, in the end, the two flowers could not help but bloom.
Just like when I was a child, in my hometown, on many nights when autumn just started, my mother always took me to water the rice in the rice field overnight. Every time, when my mother finished watering them, those suffering from drought The rice will suddenly tremble, because it is too slight, I always suspect that this is just my illusion, so I stick to them, look again and again, and finally I am convinced that their trembling is absolutely real, their last Growth is also true. When I think of the autumn harvest coming soon, my mother will no longer have to be panting like now, and a surge of lightning-like gratitude fills my body, because it makes me almost crawl Grateful, I am one with the rice, with the whole autumn, with the coming harvest.
It’s finally time for the autumn harvest! You must know that in poems and in the world, no matter how much hard work is done for the autumn harvest, it is tears, it is also the Tathagata, it is the Wuding River, and it is the Dingjun Mountain. Human beings, the scriptures have just ushered in the heart. So far, all the asceticism and forbearance have finally come to be upright; so far, the hundred thousand autumns have finally solidified into a complete autumn.
Speaking of it, since ancient times, although there are many poems describing the autumn harvest, there are very few famous lines, which is not surprising, just like when Shakyamuni came to us suddenly. What time to drag a few sweet words from the void?
Just like at this moment, in a cave deep in the desert, I had just had a glimpse of an autumn harvest picture on the wall, and I couldn’t help but think of the Paradise of Paradise mentioned in “Buddha Says Maitreya’s Next Life Sutra”, where, “In Yuze, at any time, the grains and crops are luxuriant, and the grass does not grow dirty. A kind of seven harvests, with little effort, but a lot of harvest. The food is fragrant and delicious, and the energy is full.”
However, I also know that, not elsewhere, but in the Dunhuang area at this time, those cottons, corns and grapes are being harvested and gathered in a breath that can only be breathed out and exhausted. Being transported, at least in the Dunhuang area, I am afraid that it is also in the whole world. The Paradise of Ultimate Bliss cannot exist elsewhere. It can only exist when we are out of breath and exhausted to breathe. Come out in one breath.
Those cotton, corn and grapes, I suddenly wanted to get close to them, so I went out of the cave, out of the desert, and ran on the road before night fell. Above, whether it is the people bending down or the harvest piled up on the roadside in the field, they are all docile, naked and alive by the blood-red light. Yes, they really have to be docile, because they all know that at this moment , they have been conscripted, and are acting as apostles of all tears and scriptures.
And the apostle closest to me was standing on a small agricultural truck that had just passed me slowly. I saw that person standing in the corn pile, facing the wind, gulping down the wine, Not long after he drank all the wine, he threw away the bottle, leaned over and fell down, and never got up again, as if the corn under him had turned into wine in an instant, no matter who He couldn’t be persuaded not to treat them like wine.
I don’t know why, but I suddenly wanted to get drunk with that person, so I ran after him and his harvest. After running for a while, I really felt a clear drunkenness. This drunkenness, both lingering Around me, I also drifted to the desert and wilderness. This situation is more like the poem “Huanxi Sand” written by Su Shi about the autumn harvest-I am
ashamed that there is a good harvest this year, and thousands of fine waves dance in the clear sky. The rest of the chemical industry is dyed red.
Going back, the monkey should be loaded upside down, and the children in Lan Street applaud and laugh. It was even called Jinxun Cage.
