The setting sun shines on the villages, and the cattle and sheep return to the poor alleys.
Ye Lao reads the shepherd boy, leaning on his stick to wait for Jingfei.
Pheasants show off wheat seedlings, and silkworms sleep with thin mulberry leaves.
Tian Fuhe hoeed to meet each other and talk to Yiyi.
That is to say, the envy of leisure and leisure, and the decline of sorrow.
Poetry, in this tumultuous age, seems to have become a ridiculous topic.
Poetry, in this impetuous society, cannot even become a topic that can be discussed.
Looking through the notes when I was studying in the past, I found that there are many densely packed, neatly copied verses with pens.
This "Weichuan Tianjia" is one of them, but it is not the whole poem, but the first eight sentences. Guessing the poet's feelings in the last two sentences, he unconsciously put himself outside the peasants, making this kind of exclamation seem to be suspected of not knowing the crops, so he abandoned it.
The development of modern means of transportation and advanced means of communication have shortened the distance between people. "The kind of emotion that many people have no way to experience anymore. Some people say that the nostalgia chanted by poets in the past has also disappeared in modern society. Is it true? I can't answer.
Today, seeing the words in my previous notes, I feel that, at least, poetry is still there; thinking is also there
I never deny that I am a countryman, I am a native. I have infinite affection for the native land where I was born and raised. Although there is not the prosperity that many people yearn for; although it is not rich; even the neighbors and villagers there have many bad habits that are underestimated and ridiculed But all of these, in my opinion growing up in Si, are all Natural, all true, and not injurious.
After being away from home for a long time, the feeling of homesickness is increasing day by day. Therefore, what remains in this memory is probably only the hometown.
My hometown and I are just like my parents. When I was around my parents when I was a child, I often made my parents angry. Every time at this time, my mother would say with a bit of anger:
"When will I be able to start a family and start a business without being by my side, it will also make my heart quieter."
Sure enough, one day, because he wanted to go his own way in life, he resigned from his parents and left home.
After this trip, I became a passer-by in my hometown. Every time they come and go, they are in a hurry, and the time they stay can range from three to five days to more than a month.
?Because of the parting, the parents lost the noise I made when I was with them, and cared more about their son.
So, my parents forgot all my naughtiness in the past day by day, and the rest of my memory is all about being well-behaved and obedient when I was at home.
In these years, the countryside has changed a lot, and I will feel and have some impressions after I go back. Just because walking is like passing by, coming in a hurry and going in a hurry. Therefore, those impressions and feelings inadvertently turned into haze in the mind, and then drifted away.
Regarding my hometown, what remains in my heart and cannot be erased is mostly the scenes of my childhood.
The fields in the countryside, the afterglow of the setting sun, have their own beauty: although not as dazzling as when the morning sun rises, the soft color is deeper than the morning light. The soft light of the setting sun often touches people's hearts with her deep posture, making people enter a state of ecstasy.
The tender green grass on the edge of the field also lost its true greenness in the setting sun. Fang Fo was a little shy and dizzy.
The village boy, who is ignorant of the world, gently waved the whip in his hand, driving the cattle and sheep back slowly from a distance. His every move of hand and every shot of his foot, without the slightest affectation, is the true expression of a childlike innocence. His behavior just integrated with that nature, forming a picture of a shepherd boy returning home late.
At the entrance of the village, Grandpa had already looked around a few times. The old man muttered in his heart: This child, it's so late, why hasn't he come back? This time, when he heard the crackling of the whip, and the coquettish cries of little lambs and calves, the old man felt relieved, and the anxiety on his face turned into a comfortable smile.
After a winter's sleep, Maizi's nearly withered face finally recovered. Coupled with a few timely good rains, the green wheat seedlings are even more verdant and pleasant. The festival is updated, and soon, it will be the time for the wheat to bloom again. The faint, almost invisible, light yellow wheat flowers are like finely divided powder, adhering to the green wheat ears. When the breeze blows, it is very worrying that the wheat flowers will be blown away by the wind and fall off. Looking at the endless sea of ??wheat, when the wind blows, there are layers of green waves, and there will be a kind of touch in the heart when a swallow flies low, slides across the water, and skims lightly.
When I was a child, II got a piece of silkworm eggs from a classmate and put it in the pencil case. When spring comes, when I see the mulberry tree sprouting buds, I will be very excited, because the silkworm babies will soon break out of their eggs. Every day, I will look at the paper full of silkworm eggs many times.
Finally one day, when I found a black silkworm baby the size of a sesame seed was born, I was ecstatic and told every classmate or friend I saw. Then, I will also ask them with great concern:
"How is yours, has it come out yet?"
If they say "come out", I will admire their silkworm baby with them.
If their answer is "no", I will say in a reassuring tone, as if experienced:
"Don't worry! Mine is out, and yours will be out soon."
The next day, a few of his silkworm babies came out, and everyone was happy together for a long time.
Silkworm babies are very small when they first come out, so they cannot be grasped by hand. I heard from the adults that the baby silkworms need to be swiped with chicken feathers before they can release the silkworm paper, so I searched for chicken feathers everywhere. When some friends are really anxious, they will even secretly grab their mother's beloved old hen, pluck two or three chicken feathers from it, and distribute them to classmates and partners.
When silkworms were young, they were kept in pencil cases. When the baby silkworm grew up a bit, the pencil case would not fit, so I begged my mother to borrow her sewing dustpan to make a silkworm bed.
On the way from school every day, an important thing is to pick a lot of mulberry leaves.
Sometimes, when I wake up at night, I see only the veins left on the mulberry leaves, and the mesophyll has been eaten up by silkworms. The white and fat silkworm beauties are very cute. I asked my mother, do I want to change the mulberry leaves? Mother said that she had already changed it once, and the silkworm was sleeping now, so I continued to sleep.
I heard from my grandmother that silkworms have no taste. Therefore, when raising silkworms, I even gave up onions and garlic. Occasionally, I couldn't control myself, and I ate green onions and garlic, so I resisted not to look at the silkworms, or asked my mother or sister to take a look at them for me.
Every night, before my father came back from the field, my mother would say:
"Go to the field and have a look, it's almost dinner time, why hasn't your father come back yet?"
So, I jumped up and down and ran to the field. Before I got to the field, I ran into my father halfway. It turned out that my father was chatting with his uncle in the same village on the ground. They put their hoes horizontally on the ground, sat on the handles of their respective hoes, smoked their own rolled cigarettes, and spoke slowly the common language of the country.
I called my father to go home for dinner, so my father and the uncle from the same village stood up, picked up the hoe, and continued talking unfinished words as they walked home.
I followed behind my father and my uncle from the same village, also walking slowly.
Our family's Hu Zi (dog name), a while ago and a while later, followed me side by side.
"Weichuan Tianjia" is deeply interesting to farmers. People who have not experienced or seen such a scene probably cannot write such a sentence in the first eight sentences; Can't feel, can't experience.
The poem has been read, and the strong poetic flavor is still lingering in my mind;
The countryside has been written, but the long nostalgia still lingers in my heart. (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com