Liangzhou , I live in the west of this city and have been settling in the west of Liangzhou for seven years.
Going home on the weekend, my wife went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table and . My daughter cunningly and gratified, insisted on making up for the games she had not done for a week and I. Her tiredness disappeared in this small space of less than 70 square meters. The afterglow of dusk in the west of the city finally came to a freeze of the wife's complacent snapshots, and I slowly ate the last spoonful of rice as my daughter inherited it. And I, the man who has returned home for a busy week, is like a passerby in life. At this time, I really have something to do with me. I belong to them, this home, and the night in the west of the city.
lives in the west of the city and is used to the noise of the coming and going of National Highway 312. For a moment, I pulled the curtains to isolate the noise. When another night came, my wife and daughter fell asleep. I sat on the balcony and admired the noise and noise. The road against the dim street lights is a little sad, and there is a little more fanaticism. I write a poem with all my heart to commemorate its sorrow and fanaticism in this noise.
A line of words that cannot be filled with poems, and my thoughts are also accompanied by its twists and turns. The prosperous Tang Dynasty Xuanzang whip and urged the horse; the Qing Dynasty Zuogong slid willows all the way, and the Shiyang River water rolled. Their footprints crossed Liangzhou and the Heishui River. The Zhangye Basin, known as the "Battle to the South of the Yangtze River", also attracted their souls. The city wall of Yumen Pass made the spring breeze unbearable. On the vast Gobi Desert, rows of deep and shallow horse hoof prints, and two rows of green willows are shaded. The road used to be related to them. On such a night, I live in the west of Liangzhou City, and it is my way home.
"The crescent moon rises and hangs on the top of the city, and the moon rises on the top of the city shines on Liangzhou.
100,000 families in seven miles of Liangzhou, and the Hu people half-pulled and played Pipa ."
chant such poems, lingering in the night west of the city, I can no longer resist this trick. I was still sitting on the balcony. There must be dim lights in the city. Looking at the night sky of the city from afar, the lights reflected in the sky, and the vastness turned into a soft red glow. But this is not my favorite. The street lights downstairs illuminate the long road in a dim light. At this moment, there is no evening breeze blowing the flute or moonlight cooking wine. The street lights illuminate the lonely west of Liangzhou City, making the night of autumn suitable for the thickness and light. When the bleak night wind blows, the beams of light that are pouring into the arms are even more gentle. I stared at the beautiful and gentle light and shadow, the soft light of the light, and the charm of the shadow, all cast a tender brilliance in the quiet night space. I savor the twilightness in the ink color. Maybe it is not light and shadow, but the fireworks on earth are half running around forever and half waiting silently.
It was late at night, and the road in front of the building gradually became quiet.
The winery should be in the bar late at night, and a strong "scent of wine" floated into the window either early or late. People who love wine can smell the fragrance of this "wine music" in the soft night in the west of the city. The pores on their bodies bloom and every hair is smiling unrestrainedly. I once talked about the "smelling of wine" coming from this winery. I said it smelled good, and she said it smelled like vinegar. I told her about the "scent of wine music" that filled the whole west of the city, but she warned me to "rest". But she said cunningly and gratifyingly that the smell is so strong that she doesn't need to be jealous when eating. It's enough to open her mouth and take a deep breath, which makes me laugh and cry.
After living in the west of the city for more than seven years, I have never noticed this beautiful night. I missed a lot of it in every hurrying morning and every afternoon that stretched out the shadow of the sunset. At this moment, the night gives me the most worthy happiness. At this moment, I wander in the soft night in the west of the city, and at this moment, I belong to the night in the west of the city.
Author profile: Qing Qing, born in the 1980s, from Liangzhou, a teacher in private schools, read, read, write, study and solve doubts in his teaching, and often write tens of thousands of words that cannot be written in a chapter. A few of them are scattered on their own media platforms or publications.
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