If life is just like the first meeting, hello I am Mu Yuan.
I still can't forget that passage these days:
"When you memorize words, Alaska's cod is jumping out of the water; when you do math problems, seagull on the other side of the Pacific Ocean is flying over the city; when you are studying at night, the night sky on the extreme circle is scattering colorful light. But, teenager, don't worry, when you work hard for your future, those scenery you thought you would never see, those people you once thought you would never meet in your life are coming towards you step by step."
The distance is always full of our beautiful imaginations. We were once obsessed with "the world is so big, I want to see it". We always yearn for poetry and the distance, but we are always shackled by the trivialities of the present and stop moving forward. In the distance, what poem should we bring to the distance?
In the distance, it is the Walden Lake of Thoreau. You need to take the morning commuter train to arrive in Concord at Boston North Station in Massachusetts. After getting off the bus and leaving the station, I walked along Solo Street to the southeast. After several twists, I saw the clearness.
Far away is Gorky's Siberian . On a certain day of a certain year and month, on the vast sea, the strong wind blows up dark clouds. Between the dark clouds and the sea, the seagulls are flying proudly like black lightning.
Far away, there are Dickens' orphans of fog, carrying the thick black smoke that emerged from the start of the first generation of industries and the heat coming out of the manhole covers of the dirty street sewers.
Far away, there are mountains, " will climb to the top, , will overlook all the mountains"; it is a waterfall, "the flowing down three thousand feet, it is suspected that the Milky Way will fall to the sky"; it is a big river, "a bridge flies north and south, and the natural barrier will become a thoroughfare"; it is a small bridge, "the small building listens to the spring rain last night, and the deep alley, and the Ming Dynasty sells apricot flowers"; it is wind, flowers, snow and moon, "Where will you wake up from the wine tonight, the willow bank is morning breeze and waning moon."
Far away, there are camel bells walking far away from the desert, on the other side of the sky, on the other side of the sand, on the farther side; in the distance, there are snow peaks on the mountain, the thunder of the eagle hitting the sky, resounding through the sky and piercing the dome; in the distance, there are waves of the sea, the unyielding crew member scolding the words with F when facing the roar.
Far can be quiet, searching, cold and deserted, just like Li Qingzhao's lonely boat, banana leaves after the rain, green, fat, red and thin begonia .
There can be noisy in the distance, it is the Tokyo Menghua of Song Dynasty . "The horse walk is noisy, the lights shine on the sky, and the drums are at the fourth hour." It is the palace maid's sigh, "The outside is so happy, it is as cold and deserted as my palace."
There can be war in the distance, the smoke of the Humen has not finished, the empire's cemetery, the gunpowder depot of in the Balkans, the refugees of Middle East , and the bullets fired by Donbas.
In the distance, it can be barbaric, the wild horses galloping on the African savanna, the roaring lion, the blood on the Roman gladiator , and the tearing in the underground boxing ring in Queens, New York.
The distance is where our thoughts are placed, on the other side of the mountain, on the other side of the sea, on the other side of the continent, on the other side of the sky, farther than the distance.
Far away, it is a poem, a poem that belongs only to our own hearts. Wherever you want to go, it is poetry, and where it is far away.
The distance is freedom, the place where the heart walks, the flow of thoughts, and the poems written in the sea of poetry.
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